The Edge of Winter
by Ridley C. James
Summary: With Dean's life hanging in the balance Sam and Caleb must find a way to bridge their past and present, finding mutual ground beyond old ghosts and personal demons if they are to accomplish the one thing they agree on-saving Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Edge of Winter

By: Ridley C. James

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Hey guys. It's so good to be back. I've had a while to work on this story while Tidia was posting, and it is slowly leading us up to The Brotherhood version of what will happen with Dean's deal. If Tidia and I could write as fast as we could plot, then we'd be finished and half way into season four. This particular story has been interesting to write, because in many ways it is Sam and Caleb's story, but Dean is at the heart of it. I promise he shows up in every chapter. Please, take into consideration that point of view plays an important role in what is being said, and how it is interpreted. Not everything in here is what 'I' might believe about a situation, but how the characters see each other in the moment. Sometimes things have to come to a head, before one can begin to heal. Sam and Caleb have a lot of healing to do. Theirs is a tale of forgiveness.

RCJ

"_He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass if he would reach heaven; for everyone has need to be forgiven."_

_-George Herber_

Caleb felt the surge of liquid fire pulsing through his veins. The demon possession had been painful in the beginning, but now the burn was welcomed. He braced himself for the battle, knowing the latest demon would fight him for control. He smiled as he emerged the victor without much effort. The process was getting easier, seemed to come naturally now. A little voice whispered that perhaps Caleb should be frightened, but a more insistent call drowned out the concern, reminding him that Dean's time was ticking away.

The changes were instantaneous. Caleb could make out each individual brush stroke in the painting across from him, the lapping of the water against the boat became deafening. He felt the heavy Florida air sweep against his skin, clinging to each pore. The smell of salt and brine came to life on his tongue, mixing poorly with the traces of the vegetable soup from lunch. The most noticeable and thrilling change, however, was his psychic ability.

The force at which Caleb could invade another's mental space magnified to scary levels while his own blocks were like reinforced steel. He'd learned early on that with different demons came different talents. Telekinesis was his favorite, and he wondered at his father's restraint in using that particular gift.

"How long, Caleb?"

Jessup's soft voice brought him from his musings. He rolled his shoulders, let out a deep exhale, finding his center. "I want to try for forty."

"Thirty was difficult."

By difficult Caleb assumed his former teacher was referring to the massive migraine which had him puking his guts up into the early morning hours. He regarded the older man, watching him shift his iron sword from one hand to the other. Upon Caleb's request, The Dragon's Talon lay on a chair within Jessup's reach along with a bottle of holy water. A thick circle of salt separated them. They had stopped using the devil's trap; Caleb couldn't try out his new found aptitude with such restraints. "It could have been your alligator stew."

Jessup inclined his head, his grey ponytail draping over one shoulder. "It's good to see your ill humor remains."

"That sounds like your stoic way of calling me a smart ass, Jessup."

"Interpretation reveals much about a man."

Caleb took another breath as he felt the demon try to gain the upper hand. This one was more willful than the last, or Caleb was more worn than he thought. "The longer I stay here, the wordier _you_ get. What happened to all those wise, simple, three word locutions?"

"I am adapting."

Caleb snorted. "Meaning I talk too damn much."

"If talking makes this easier, then we shall talk."

In the beginning using Noah Seaver's amulet to possess demons had been hard, both physically and mentally. But as the months passed, he grew more adept. "It lets you know I'm still in charge."

"There is that."

"So we'll go for forty," Caleb reassured himself. It was the second possession for the day; the first one had been unremarkable - like a good stretch before a long run. "I still think I need to work up to an hour, and…well you know. Tick tock."

"Perhaps if you discussed the plan with another? Dean for instance?"

Caleb shook his head. He knew exactly how his best friend would feel about his current project. "Deuce's got his plate full at the moment."

"There is Sam."

Caleb rubbed his neck, the first tendrils of tension reaching up from his shoulders promising a spectacular headache. "He won't understand."

"That seems unlikely. Dean is his brother."

Caleb stopped his pacing, glared at Jessup. "And I'm not? Is that it?" Caleb was sick of having that biological evidence thrown in his face. Didn't actions count for something? Loyalty?

Jessup's response was to raise his sword, square off his stance. Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "Shit. Forget I said that." Maybe Jessup had a point about interpretation. Caleb's emotions were a reflection of his own insecurities, and when he was challenged he would lash out. The demon was digging. Caleb learned the hard way that head games were a favorite offensive tactic. Demons took something that had insidious plausibility, and then twisted their victim with it. Blatant lies were easy to detect and therefore ineffective. Half truths were an effective tool. He took another breath, reasserting his dominance. "I'm sorry…it's a sore subject."

Jessup relaxed his grip. "Another reason to talk with Sam."

"Sam isn't always easy to talk to. Kind of like John."

"They hurt Dean."

Caleb focused on Jessup, surprised at the other man's words. "What'd you say?"

Jessup frowned, repeating himself. "You're a team."

"Yeah." Caleb rubbed at his temples, hoping to assuage the building pressure. They were a team. He and Sam had made a pact to work together to save Dean no matter what it took. "We're all in this together."

"Yet, you're the one here, while Sam is spending time with his brother."

"Goddamnit. Are you trying to piss me off Jessup?"

The swordsman's brow puckered in confusion. "I merely suggested Sam and Dean spend some time here. You could help one another."

Caleb needed to get a grip. He clenched his fists. Obviously, the demon was twisting what Jessup was saying. "That's not a good idea." He didn't want Dean or Sam to see him. He had a hard enough time with his reflection in the mirror. "It's better this way."

"Better for Sammy. He has to have things his way."

"It's not working!" Caleb cupped his hands over his ears, resumed his pacing. The need to reclaim his concentration was imperative. He focused on the floor as the pressure in his skull increased. The demon was distorting what Jessup was saying somehow between the mental processes of receiving and deciphering. The damn thing had gotten past his blocks, worming its way into his thoughts like a computer virus. "I know what you're up to."

"Caleb?"

The demon must have taken Caleb's declaration as a challenge, because the intensity of the attack was increased. Mental pictures flashed before the psychic's eyes. At first he worried he was experiencing the beginnings of a vision, but then the frames flowed together. Caleb realized he wasn't being shown a future event; instead he was forced to view a moment from his past. A moment the demon chose for nefarious reasons.

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Manhattan, NY

July 2002

"Frank Lloyd Wright believed no building should be on a hill. The building should be of the hill, belonging to it." Caleb Reaves resisted the urge to tug at his uncomfortable tie. He made eye contact with the businessmen and women around the table. "Both hill and house should live together - each happier for the other."

He easily read the smirk in his construction foreman's eyes as Oliver 'Moose' Havers fidgeted in the chair closest to him, even more uncomfortable in a suit than Caleb. This project would propel them up the ranks of the architectural elite, and more than that Caleb _wanted_ to design the building, having worked on the perspective sketches for weeks.

Caleb gestured to the large glass window with a view of the city. "Wright's philosophy is one we embrace here at Tri-Corp. We don't want to merely build you a community center; we want a chance to sculpt the heart of your neighborhood." It was lame, a bit over the top, but golden. Moose coughed, Caleb catching the mumbled 'bullshit' under his breath. He ignored his friend and continued, "Given the chance Tri-Corp will present Chelsea with a piece of art that her citizens won't merely look at or walk around, but with a thing of beauty that they can live, work and play in-everyone happier and enriched by its founding."

Caleb could sense the shift in attention. The stirring words were working their magic. Even Howard Silverman, by far the hardest sale, was sitting a little taller in his chair, no longer staring at his watch. Evelyn Mercer touched a delicate hand to her perfectly coifed silver hair before bringing it to rest lightly against her chest. Caleb would get her vote, holding her icy blue gaze a little longer than necessary. He flashed a smile before launching into the next bit of rhetoric which was sure to clench the deal. The buzz of the intercom stopped him mid-speak.

"Mr. Reaves, there's someone here to see you."

Caleb stood straighter, clenched his fists. He was beginning to understand Moose's joke about their secretarial services being as bad as the ones spoofed on the Murphy Brown sitcom. The new temp was nice to look at, but totally inept when it came to following instructions. "Claire, we're in the middle of a meeting. Could you schedule them an appointment at a later date."

There was a long pause in which he frowned at Moose. Claire's shrill voice filled the room once more.

"Your nephew says it's a family emergency."

Caleb's chest tightened as he reached his thoughts past the door into the next room. The familiar link with his mentor's oldest son zinged to life, flooding him with an onslaught of worry and fear. "Damn." He glanced at Moose. "It's Dean."

"Little Dude?" Oliver raised a brow. "You want me to go out and see what's up?"

Caleb shook his head at the antiquated nickname. "No. I'll take care of it." He glanced at the intercom. "Claire, I'll be right out."

"Mr. Reaves, we scheduled this meeting upon your request and I must say against my better judgment," Howard said. "Your firm is reputable, your portfolio is impressive, but you have not designed a structure of this magnitude. I hope you realize exactly what is at stake here and how valuable our time is."

"I do." Caleb resisted the urge to tell Silverman what he could do with his better judgment, clasping Moose on the shoulder. "That's why I wouldn't dream of asking you or your constituents to wait for my return. Oliver will be glad to finish telling you about the project design we have in mind and showing you my preliminary sketches. Won't you, Oliver?"

"I will?"

Caleb tightened his grip on the other man's shoulder. "Of course."

Moose's face reddened, his gaze narrowing. "But Boss…I'm not really a talker…"

Caleb forced a grin. "Just continue from where I left off." He leaned closer to the foreman, lowered his voice. "Pretend you're at a bar Moose. Bullshit comes naturally to you when you're around loose women."

"But I'm usually soused," Olive hissed.

"Fake it."

Caleb didn't have time to feel bad for abandoning his foreman, or the project. The emotions coming from Dean were his only concern. Upon reaching the other room, his worst fears were confirmed.

The twenty-three year old immediately stopped his pacing in front of Claire's temporary work station, meeting Caleb's gaze. Dean was pale; dark smudges beneath his eyes. The bruises on his face stood out in vivid comparison.

Caleb quickly crossed the distance between them. "Dean?"

"Sammy's gone, Damien. He's gone."

It took a moment for Caleb to quell the panic, to search for and find the psychic thread that stood out as Sam Winchester. Finding it whole and intact, convincing himself that Sam was still very much alive, Caleb gripped his friend's shoulder, guiding him to Moose's office for more privacy.

"What are you talking about, Deuce?"

Dean threw up his hands, defeat in his dull green eyes. "He left, took off in the middle of the night."

Caleb frowned. "He ran away?" The psychic couldn't help to think of another time when Dean had shown up unexpected, terrified because his then twelve-year-old little brother had pulled a vanishing act. "Dude, he's nineteen."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "No, man. He left…for college."

Suddenly the pieces clicked together. "He accepted the Stanford scholarship." It was always a possibility looming in the distance. It was a shooting star for Sam, one to deliver him away, but a hell bent asteroid for Dean, capable of blowing his world apart.

Dean nodded. "He said he was heading to California."

"But the last I heard he hadn't made up his mind…and school doesn't start for another couple of months." Caleb had counted on the extra time as had Dean. "What the hell happened?"

"Dad happened."

Caleb's stomach knotted. "Did John do that to your face?"

"What?" Dean's brows knitted together, eliciting a wince of pain as the movement tugged against the butterfly sutures marring his forehead.

It was the one thing Caleb could imagine pushing Sam over the edge. They shared that particular limitation. It wasn't like John had ever stepped over the invisible line, but it was always a fear in the back of Caleb's mind. "Was he drunk?"

"Hell no." Dean shook his head, gestured to his face. "This happened on a hunt…fucking pissed off spirit."

Caleb leaned against his desk, relieved his mentor hadn't lost all sense. "That what set Sammy off?"

"It started it." Dean sighed. "You know how he is. He blamed Dad, Dad blamed him."

"Another fun round of let's beat the dead horse." Caleb knew all too well. Fun times had fled the Winchester world since Sam graduated high school, and a well meaning guidance counselor had offered Sam the golden key to his jail cell. John, being the consummate warden, had snatched it to play keep away.

"I've never seen them go at it like that, Caleb." Dean licked his lips. "I…I thought they were going to start swinging."

"You said it yourself Deuce. They're both stubborn jackasses. Give it some time."

"No. This was different. Dad…he kicked Sammy out, told him if he went to fucking Stanford to never look back."

That sounded about right. Caleb pushed away from the desk, moving closer to Dean. "Sam's not going to disappear. So he goes to college? It'll give the two bulls some space. Let Johnny cool off. Give Sammy some freedom, something else to focus on. He'll come around. They both will. Hell, the cease fire might be exactly what you need, Dude. No more masquerading as a pull toy in their tug of war."

Dean met his gaze. "You really believe that?"

Caleb had to for Dean's sake. "I do."

"Is that a psychic vibe or just you blowing sunshine up my ass so you can get back to your important meeting?"

Caleb grinned. "Would I snow you, Deuce?"

"If you thought it was for my best interest, you might."

"I'm hurt." Caleb laid a hand over his chest, slid it to his stomach. "I'm also a hungry."

Dean smiled and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, Caleb felt he'd won something more important than a lucrative deal. "Your emotional range is amazing."

"Hey, I can be sensitive." Caleb reached out and patted his uninjured cheek. "Just to prove it, I'll buy you the best steak in town; let you drown your sorrows in half a dozen beers or so. Even find you a cute redhead so you can cry on her shoulder."

"What about your meeting?" Dean jutted his chin towards the main office. "Your girl Friday said it was a major ass kissing session."

"Since when have you known me to kiss ass?" Caleb threw an arm around his shoulder. "Now Moose is a great ass kisser. Besides, I've got more important things to do."

Important things were a hearty steak dinner and a trip to a local sports pub which ended in an extended stay at Dean's favorite New York bar, Hogs and Heifers. "Easy, big guy." Caleb struggled with pushing the door to his apartment open while maintaining a grip on his best friend.

Caleb had the grace of hindsight to realize those last two shots of tequila for the road had not been the smartest move. In his defense, Caleb found it hard to deny Dean much on a good day, let alone a request on one of the worst nights of the younger man's life.

Dean was beyond wasted. The amount of alcohol consumed was definitely in the range of the kid's twenty-first birthday blow out in the small little border town, but Dean's attitude was reminiscent of his first hard kill. That had been Dean's baptism of sorts and Caleb couldn't help but to see this as yet another bloody anointment. "I got you, Deuce."

"Where's Kelly?" Dean slurred, nearly tripping over his own feet as Caleb let him go long enough to toss his keys and jacket on the counter.

The psychic caught the younger hunter's arm as he started for the living room. "Kelly didn't want you throwing up on her couch and neither do I. Let's hit the sack."

"I wanted to sleep with Kelly, Damien not you."

Caleb snorted at the boy-like petulance and steered Dean to the first bedroom in the hallway. "That's good, because I'm not that easy. Now Kelly's friend April was more my type. But I landed a babysitting gig." He forewent the light, finding his way easy enough in the bare room. "So you and I both get our own beds tonight."

"My…bed," Dean muttered as Caleb deposited him onto the mattress. "In my room."

"You bet." Caleb kneeled down to relieve Dean of his shoes, knowing the younger hunter would never be able to manage them. "We still need to hang those Metallica posters, throw some dirty socks and porn around. Toss a Red Sox pennant or two up on the wall." Caleb glanced at him as he managed to liberate the second boot. "But for tonight, it's home sweet home."

Dean blinked. "You got a Sammy stashed in here?"

Caleb continued at his task. The one thing that defined home for Dean was the one thing Caleb couldn't give him. "Sorry. I'm clean out of those."

When Caleb looked up to meet Dean's gaze, he saw pain through the alcohol glaze. Heartache was one bitch of a buzz kill. Caleb took a seat on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Dean. A night of watching the kid unravel had left him less optimistic than he'd been at the office earlier. "You doing okay, Slugger?"

Dean stared straight ahead. "It's like they hate each other."

Caleb waited for Dean to look at him. "They don't hate each other. They've just come to a crossroads and neither one is willing to follow the road the other wants to take." The sad part was Dean couldn't go both distances. He'd have to pick a path and stick with it.

Dean licked his lips. "How could Dad tell him not to come back? It's Sammy."

"Dude, you know Johnny when he gets his pride hurt, when he thinks his soldiers aren't falling in line."

"Sam's not a soldier. He's his son."

Caleb had that same thought more times than he could count over the years. But try telling it to John. "Same difference."

"My whole life has been spent protecting, Sammy. I don't know what to do if he's not here. I don't know how not to be his big brother."

Dean wasn't losing Sam, he was losing his identity. "You'll always be his big brother. He's gone off to college, not to war."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Same difference."

"I went to college, genius." Caleb bumped his shoulder. "And I'm still here."

"He's not you. Sam doesn't want to hunt. He hates it. And Dad's not Mac. He doesn't see the importance for 'normal' even as subterfuge. You know that."

Caleb nodded. "I know that. But I also know Sam."

"You didn't hear them-see the look in Sammy's eyes-the way he fired off at Dad. He's finished."

Caleb stood, giving Dean another little shove; he fell back on the mattress. It was time to sleep it off. "Things will look better in the morning, Deuce." He tried for a grin as he lifted the younger man's legs up onto the bed. "Well, after you've done your fair share of sacrificing to the porcelain tank in the bathroom that is."

Dean rested against the pillows, but continued to stare at Caleb. "What if he doesn't come back? Who's going to watch out for him?"

Caleb swallowed thickly, avoiding the bright green eyes as he retrieved a blanket from the closet. Returning, he unfolded the quilt, draped it over Dean before sitting down on the edge of the bed once more. "He's coming back."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's your brother, and he knows you need him to. That's what families do."

"I'm not sure if I have a family anymore."

"That's Jose Cuervo talking, and he's not a friend of yours." Caleb ran a quick hand over Dean's hair as the kid started to fade. As long as he was alive, Dean would always have a family. "Get some sleep, Kiddo."

He waited until Dean's breath evened out, until the pinched lines disappeared from around the younger man's eyes and his forehead smoothed before he stood. Caleb pulled his cell phone from his pocket, ignoring the five missed calls from Moose, three others from John. Caleb didn't give a shit about the deal at the moment, didn't trust himself to talk to his mentor. Instead he hit the number three on his speed dial, sighed as the familiar voicemail kicked in.

It was expected. Dean had tried to call his brother at least four times that Caleb had witnessed during dinner, and then later at the bar. He looked down at one of the streetlights below as he waited for the beep.

"Hey, Sammy, it's Caleb. Look Runt, I heard what happened between you and your old man. I'm sorry." Caleb ran a hand through his hair, forced a light sounding laugh. "Can't say I didn't see that one coming. But if you need something, anything…I mean it Samantha, don't be a stubborn ass. You know my number."

Caleb looked up at the night sky, searching for Orion despite the unlikelihood of catching a glimpse of the hunter constellation. "And Sam… Dean's worried. I know Johnny's being an ass, but that's Johnny. Give your big brother a call." Caleb hesitated. "Please."

_RCJSnsnsnsNRcJ_

Florida

November 2007

"He never called." Caleb blinked, the images from his past blanking out in a screen of snow like a television station going off air.

"Who never called?" Jessup asked.

He looked up at his former teacher, realizing that what had seemed such a long time in his mind had most likely been mere seconds for Jessup. Time was relative, especially in psychic realms.

"Sammy." Caleb brought a hand to his head as a sharp spike of energy bolted through his senses. He rubbed his temples, trying to erase the images from before, get a handle on the anger the memory had conjured.

"Are you alright?"

Caleb ignored the question, pinched the bridge of his nose as a more familiar sensation brushed against his mind. He fought back a wave of panic. "Sam."

An unexpected knock at the door had Jessup glancing to the stern, just as a familiar voice echoed through the cabin.

"Caleb? Are you there? It's Sam."

Jessup gripped the hilt of his sword as Caleb's eyes went inky black. He grinned, his voice foreign. "Speak of the devil."

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Sam didn't want to believe Caleb had returned to Florida after the incident with Agatha Hennings. He continued to doubt his gut instinct the entire drive, even when the older psychic didn't answer his phone, or return Sam's three urgent voicemails. Throughout the tiresome trip, Sam held onto the belief that he and Caleb had an understanding-no more lone wolf stunts. His faith was bolstered when he reached Jessup's place and found no psychic trace of Caleb, not even a faint twinge alerting him there was another psychic was present. His resolve held firm until he found his father's truck, the big black Chevy parked off the dirt road near the rickety docks.

"Stubborn sonofabitch." Sam got out of the Impala, slamming the driver's door. A fleeting panic had him searching his feelings, afraid he might find some inkling the worst had happened, Caleb was gone. A loss of that magnitude would be easy to recognize, even with fledgling abilities like his. Sam had felt it once when he'd found his father lying in the hospital. It was akin to a gaping chest wound. There was nothing of that sort, only a persistent gnawing fear for his brother and a blank space when he thought of Caleb.

From the sandy bank of the secluded lake he eyed the houseboat bobbing in the water. It was as unsightly as he recalled from his one visit as a kid - two story, rust-red in color, and not looking seaworthy. Sam was amazed it didn't take on water moored in its lonely slip.

He proceeded with caution, inching his way across two wooden, water-stained planks to board the back of the boat. Dean had sworn Jessup kept an alligator for a pet, like Caleb's hero Sonny Crockett. As unlikely as it was, Sam didn't want to surprise any sleeping reptile.

Upon returning from training with Jessup, Dean had filled his little brother's head with outlandish tales. He made his time spent learning the art of swordsmanship sound like a Chuck Norris movie, and Jessup's legend grew to epic proportions, like Master Splinter from the Ninja Turtles, if only Jimmy Buffet played the part.

Needless to say Sam was not anticipating his turn to fulfill his own internship with the master. He refused the rare opportunity. By age sixteen he already lost his starry-eyed ideas of hunting. He wanted normal. Normal was not an extended summer camp with a samurai in Margaritaville.

Once on the houseboat, satisfied Sonny's buddy 'Elvis' wasn't aboard, Sam tried again to reach Caleb telepathically. The only change was the blank spot now seemed more like a wall of white noise. Caleb was indeed on the premises, but somehow shielded. The sight of the familiar battered work boots abandoned by the door left no room for doubt. Sam cursed under his breath again and knocked. "Caleb. Are you there? It's Sam."

Water and wind provided the only reply until a muffled shout and a loud thump echoed from inside. Sam's connection to Caleb zinged back on line. He gasped as his mind reeled under the surge of emotion, then Caleb's distress flooded through the link. His friend's pain erased any thoughts of his own discomfort, obliterating all concerns for an invitation or the niceties of removing his shoes. Sam laid the door open with a well placed kick and entered the cabin with gun drawn.

"Caleb."

The older hunter was on his knees, head bowed in the center of the room. Jessup was standing above him, plastic bottle in one hand, sword in the other.

"Stay back, Sam," Jessup said, calmly.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam lowered his weapon, but moved closer to Caleb, who had yet to react to his entrance. "Caleb?"

Caleb jerked, his head snapping back as a black mist erupted from his mouth, colliding with the low ceiling before dissipating like a plume of smoke.

"Shit," Sam said. He watched as Caleb slumped boneless towards the floor, catching himself with his hands at the last minute. Sam could hear the older psychic's ragged pants, could see the sweat soaking his hair and shirt collar. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

Caleb lifted his head, turning to look at Sam. Noah Seaver's gold amulet flashed from around his neck. "I was thinking…who the fuck invited you to the party."

Sam ignored the growl, put his gun away. "I thought we'd agreed this wasn't the way."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "I was on my deathbed, under a spell…and I didn't agree to anything."

Sam moved to the other psychic's side. He gave Jessup a heated glare before pointing to Caleb's face. "You're bleeding."

The older hunter wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. "It happens."

"All in the line of duty?" Sam demanded.

"Something like that." Caleb struggled to get to his feet. "Can't all be good times, Runt."

Sam observed the pale face beneath the slight beard, dark smudged eyes framed by pinched lines. "You look sick, man."

Caleb swallowed. "Funny you should say that…"

Sam watched the other psychic turn and bolt for the door, crossing the deck in two long strides to lean over the side of the boat. The sounds of retching drifted into the room and Sam turned to Jessup. "More side effects?"

The teacher nodded. "Possession's not pleasant."

Sam glanced to the water bottle in Jessup's hand, the sword and then let his gaze go to a chair which held The Dragon's Talon, a Knight's blade capable of killing anything supernatural or not. Anger coursed through him at the implication. "Less pleasant for some than others."

"Bearing witness is its own suffering." Jessup inclined his head. "Hence why I was chosen."

"Instead of me or Dean, you mean," Sam said. He picked up the Dragon's Talon, gripped the black stone handle in his hand. Caleb had gone to Jessup because he knew the man operated outside the confines of The Brotherhood and was more trustworthy than any of his cult contacts. "You were chosen because we would have known better-would have stopped him. You have no idea what he's dealing with."

"Each man chooses his own path, Sam."

"Not this time." Sam slipped the strap from the Talon's leather sheath over his shoulder, letting it hang loosely at his side. "I'm not losing one more person to that particular journey." He nodded to Jessup, conjured his best John Winchester tone. "We'll be leaving now."

"I hope so."

Sam didn't sense any malice in the words, only a sincere understanding. "He won't be coming back for anymore of this." He gestured to the salt lines, wanting to make himself clear. It was more dark warning than observation, but if Jessup took it as such it didn't register on his serene features.

"Time shall tell."

Sam found Caleb still hunched over the side, his head resting on the railing. "You done?"

"Sure thing." Caleb slowly righted himself, one hand guarding his stomach the other sliding slowly across his mouth. "Let's hope the fish and gators like Jessup's leftovers."

"Good." Sam slid the Talon off his shoulder, shoved it towards Caleb. "Because we're leaving."

Caleb took the blade, cocked a brow. "Is that so, Corporal Winchester?"

"Don't even start with the bullshit about Dad. This is me talking, and we're leaving." Sam hitched his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, standing his ground.

"You're in charge now?" Caleb stood straighter. "Having delusions of grandeur, young Jedi?"

Sam bit his lip. "I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm, Caleb." They didn't have time for it.

"And I'm not in the mood for your drill sergeant routine, Sam. The last time I checked I ranked a whole hell of lot higher than you in this army, having never gone AWOL and all."

"What?" Sam was surprised at the veer in the conversation. "You're bringing up Stanford?"

"It was bound to come up sooner or later, considering your propensity to emote on a frequent basis."

Sam took a step forward. "Are you still possessed?"

"No." Caleb shook his head. "This is all me. That demon you barged in on would have skipped the pleasant conversation, added you to the alligator's surprise buffet. You're lucky I was able to regain control. What the hell were you doing walking into an unknown situation like that?"

"I was trying to save your ass."

"My ass is just fine." Caleb moved to walk past him, but Sam caught his arm.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Caleb pulled away from him. "You come all this way because you're worried about me? That sounds nothing like you."

"I came because of Dean."

Sam watched Caleb's jaw clench. "Is he with you? If you ran your mouth to him Runt, so help me God…"

"I didn't tell him about the amulet or the possessions. I thought it was a moot point."

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. "Then where the hell is he?"

"That's a good question. I was hoping you could tell me."

"Why would I know where he is? He's your brother."

"What?" Sam stared at the other hunter. "Did that demon do something to you? Is this another side effect? I just told you Dean was missing."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"Wait." Caleb held up a hand. "Back up. He's missing?"

"Missing," Sam said. "I haven't seen him or talked to him in over twenty-eight hours." Sam watched the other hunter loose what little color he had.

"That's not good."

"Tell me about." Sam was relieved someone could take on some of the burden. He'd called Bobby after arriving in Florida but hadn't gone into great detail.

"Shit." Caleb sat in increments on one of the deck chairs. "Where was the last place you saw him?"

"At a dive in Georgia. We stopped for beers. He ended up doing some shots with a woman at the bar." Sam recalled every detail of the place- the shoddy walls, the scuffed up floor and the beautiful woman looking extremely out of her element. He should have been suspicious.

"Sounds typical."

"Yeah." He wished he had intruded, limited his brother's drinking instead of allowing him the time to relax.

Caleb looked up at him. "You sure he's not holed up somewhere with the chick?"

"He's not answering his phone-he didn't leave a note. . ."

"Goddamnit," Caleb stood, kicked the chair. "How the hell did this happen? Where the hell were you, Sam?"

"Me?" The insinuation was a match to gassed timber. "Where the hell were you, Caleb? You're the fucking Knight." All the bottled up anxiety and hours of driving non-stop were taking their toll, not to mention the anger at realizing Caleb had lied to him. "You dropped the ball."

"I was doing my job, trying to save his life."

"It's your job to watch out for him," Sam roared. He stepped toe to toe with Caleb, going so far as to poke his finger in the other hunter's chest. "But you were here trying to be the hero, getting your jollies fucking around with your precious family heirloom."

Caleb's punch surprised him, snapping his head back, nearly knocking him on his ass in the middle of the deck. It stung, reminiscent of Dean hitting him after Dad's death, after Sam had pushed just a little too hard.

"Fuck you, Sam."

Unlike the time with his brother, Sam had no inclinations to turn the other cheek. He shook off the shock, reclaimed his footing, letting the pain feed his adrenaline. He struck out with a right cross and followed it up with a sharp jab to the midsection that under normal circumstances Caleb would have probably blocked in his sleep. Sam only had a fleeting moment of guilt, knowing the other hunter wasn't in top form. John Winchester had preached manipulating any weakness in the enemy's armor. He could be his father's son when it suited his task. Right now said directive was to hurt Caleb. "No. Fuck you, Damien."

Caleb tackled him, sending them both crashing to the floor, scattering fishing tackle and sending deck chairs clanging about. He clipped Sam with a left hook to the jaw. "You sonofabitch."

Sam struggled to get out from under Caleb as the man sent two more quick strikes to his face. John Winchester would have applauded as Sam flipped his opponent, scrambling to his knees to face off again. He spat blood, pulled the back of his hand across his mouth as he stumbled to his feet. "Better than a demonic bastard."

Caleb made it to standing in time for Sam to see hurt race through his eyes, one of which was sporting a nasty cut and quickly swelling. What the hell were they doing? "Coming from Satan's champion, Saint Sam, that's almost funny…"

All remorse washed away as Caleb's words struck a deep chord. Sam lashed out with a kick which Caleb caught and used to take him down. Still, Sam managed to land an uppercut as Caleb tried to pin him. They were flopping around on the deck like two fish pulled from the lake when a bucket of ice cold water splashed over them.

For a moment Sam wondered at the probability of a freak squall summoned wave, but then Jessup's deep voice rang out.

"Enough of this."

Sam coughed, rolling away from Caleb, who was shaking like a wet dog. When he reached a safe distance he collapsed, looking up at Jessup's solemn face. "He started it."

"Did not," Caleb snapped.

Jessup didn't even feign interest. He tossed the bucket aside. "Off my boat."

"You're kicking us out?" Caleb was on his knees now, holding a hand to his side. "Just like that?"

"You have Sam." Jessup scooped Caleb's boots from the floor and dropped them in front of the hunter. "Sam has you."

"That's a comfort," Caleb said, using one of the overturned chairs to push to his feet. "Why not send me away with a knife in my back for my trouble?"

"And you call me the drama queen," Sam said, grunting as he made it completely upright.

"And now I'll add hypocrite and pompous ass to the list."

"Go to hell."

"Be careful what you wish for, Sammy. You're already sending one brother there."

Sam lunged for Caleb, but found himself brought up short by Jessup's iron grip. "I said enough."

Sam pulled away. "Fine. I'm leaving."

Jessup gestured to Caleb. "Take him, too."

The two men stared at each other. "I have to find Dean," Sam said finally. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"I'm going to help Dean."

"Whatever."

Caleb roughly brushed past him, bending down to pick up The Dragon's Talon he'd dropped when their fight broke out. Sam took some sadistic satisfaction in the wince of pain he witnessed as Caleb stood straight once more. The older hunter glanced to Jessup. "Any departing words of wisdom, Master?"

Sam wasn't sure, but he thought Jessup's mouth might have twitched ever so slightly, one side tipping up marginally. "Try being friends."

Caleb snorted. "That's it?"

"A task harder than it sounds."

"Yeah." Caleb shook his head. "Bound to be painful too, like most of your damn lessons."

Jessup nodded. "You're getting smarter."

Sam watched Caleb make his way off the boat before turning to frown at the teacher. Despite the fact he was still pissed off, his first inclination was to defend the ridiculous. They were friends. He loved Caleb, knew Caleb loved him. They were practically brothers. "We're family."

Jessup eyed him, a wealth of patience on his weathered face; his dark eyes alight with some secret knowledge. "Not the same."

It struck like a cartoon anvil, a truth Sam never quite understood until that very moment. Jessup was right. Caleb had been many things to him over the years. Hero. Protector. Teacher. But where those positions left room for affection they also required a certain distance-a distance that had become more wedge than buffer. They were not friends. "How do I change it?"

"Not I. **We.**"

Sam sighed heavily, his impatience flaring. He suddenly understood why his father only lasted a week in Jessup's auspices. "Thanks. That makes perfect sense."

"You are welcome."

Sam took his time getting back to the Impala, taking a moment to collect himself at the water's edge. Dean would be so disappointed in them.

He found Caleb at the car, duffel resting at his feet as he slipped his boots on. Sam searched for a white flag statement, a task made even more difficult when Caleb looked up at him. The swollen eye and busted lip added to the older hunter's already unhealthy countenance. "How you and Dean lasted two months with that man, I'll never know. He makes no sense."

"He makes perfect sense. That's what irritates you." Caleb went back to lacing his boot. "Truth hurts, Runt."

Sam clenched his fists. So there would be no truce. "Like you would know the truth these days if it punched you in the face."

Caleb cinched the lace. "Still throwing stones from that glass castle, Prince Samuel?"

Sam grabbed the duffel, slung it over his shoulder. He thought of his own secret about the yellow-eyed demon's blood. Who was Caleb to call him a hypocrite? "Better than blowing smoke up my own ass, Belac." He tossed in Caleb's things before sliding into the driver's seat. "Where's Athewm to call bullshit when we need him?"

Caleb pulled his feet up into the Impala and slammed the passenger's door. "The sooner we find Dean, the better." He cut his gaze to Sam. "I'd hate to explain to him why his little brother's jaw is wired shut."

Sam put both his hands on the Impala's steering wheel, a sudden longing for Dean knotting his gut. It suddenly struck him that he had spent little or no time alone with Caleb-not since the New Mexico hunt. "Or how his best friend ended up in traction." It was going to be another bumpy ride.

Caleb exhaled heavily, leaning into the headrest. "I just hope Deuce is in one piece, man." He brought his hand up, gingerly touched his eye. "That _he's_ not a fucking medical emergency."

Sam prayed for the same. "At least we still agree on one thing."

Caleb didn't lift his head, but turned it so he could see Sam. "We're going to find him and he'll be pissed he missed out on the fight of the century."

"Yeah." Sam snorted. "A battle so vicious an old man armed with a bucket of water brought it to a fizzling end."

"Hey, Jim once took Dad and John down with a garden hose." Caleb shrugged. "Besides, the way I see it a great warrior intervened just in the nick of time, saving your life with his selfless bravery."

"Or saved yours," Sam said.

"Please." Caleb turned his gaze to the window. "You hit like a girl, Samantha."

"A girl that bloodied your nose." Sam started the car and placed it in drive. "And blackened your eye."

Caleb cut his gaze to him once more as they pulled onto the dirt drive that would take them to the main road. "You think you're the first bitch to draw blood? Hell, I've had rougher foreplay than what you dished out back there."

"That's disgusting." Sam twisted his face in distaste, silently relishing in the resonation of a cease fire. "Sounds just like you."

"You might not know me as well as you think."

Sam looked to the road. "I could say the same," he said quietly.

Caleb shifted in his seat. "Maybe."

"We've got some time," Sam offered. "It's going to be a long drive to Bobby's." The mechanic was expecting them. Sam hoped he'd be waiting with some helpful intel. "Maybe we'll think differently by the end."

"Stranger things have happened," Caleb said

If the other psychic was curious about what Sam had told Singer he didn't let on. He hoped it was a sign that Caleb trusted him to keep his mouth shut about the amulet, and not just the fact that Caleb didn't give a shit one way or the other. "We do know all about strange." If they could encounter and destroy supernatural forces on a daily basis, how hard could it be to forge a friendship?

"Deuce is my first priority."

Sam turned at the soft declaration; his eyes searching the gold depths staring intently back at him. He didn't admonish the other psychic for reading him. Sam wasn't a complete hypocrite.

"Look at that. Two things we agree on."

It was a beginning and every great journey began with one small step.

RCJ

A/N: Remember...patience. I promise it will all make sense in the end. If you think I'm being harsh to either character, please reread the notes at the beginning. I so can't wait to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Edge of Winter

Chapter 2

Beta: Tidia

A/N: A resounding thank you to all those who reviewed, despite the strange posting at ffnet. I hope this chapter goes smoother. And of course, thanks to Tidia who has to listen to me rant about this story almost on a daily basis as I am almost seven chapters in and have threatened many times to just simply toss it, or perhaps a nice salt and burn would be appropriate. She manages to talk me off the ledge each time,and all of your interesting thoughts and very kind words out there in reader land have indeed smoothed my ruffled feathers, inspiring me to work just a little bit harder to see this through to the end. Also, just another reminder, that this is a transition of sorts that the boys need to get through. They will not always be kind to each other during it. Kind of like pulling a bandaide off very, very, slowly.

"_We are all on a life long journey and the core of its meaning, the terrible demand of its centrality is forgiving and being forgiven-_

_Martha Kilpatrick_

_RCJ_

"Are you waiting for an invitation?" Sam asked as he waited for Caleb to knock on Bobby's door. He took out his hands and blew on them, trying to warm them up before stuffing them deep in his jacket.

"You thinking I should maybe kick the door in?"

Caleb wasn't in his happy place. In fact, Sam wasn't sure if he was completely safe standing in arm's reach. That still didn't deter his smart-ass reply. "I'm thinking in your condition it would be funny to see you try. Whatever you do, do it quick. I'm freezing."

The ride hadn't improved their countenance, if anything the long drive in the Impala with Dean's absence looming between them had thickened the tension. It was like the incident at Jessup's had ripped off a long forgotten scab, and now the wound wouldn't stop bleeding. "Unlike some people, I have manners."

"Selective ones," Sam muttered. Caleb's reply sounded vindictive, not sarcastic so Sam answered in kind.

"Excuse me?"

The younger hunter shook his head, not wanting to have this particular conversation and wondering how he had gotten caught in its lair once more. He never knew exactly what might set Caleb off. "It's just I remember a time when you had no problem barging in, sticking your nose where it didn't belong. What was that word you called me…hypocrite."

Caleb threw his hands in the air. "Now _you're _bringing up Stanford? Priceless." The older hunter laughed. "I told you it was just a matter of time."

"You started it," was the best retort Sam had from his arsenal of barbs, and he knew it was weak.

"Did not."

"Whatever, dick head." Sam put his hand forward, about to knock on the door, knowing they couldn't argue in front of Bobby.

"Wait. Maybe you're right. Maybe this conversation is long overdue." Caleb batted his hand away. "I remember some things about Stanford, too, you know."

RcJSnsnsnsnsRcJ

Palo Alto, CA

November 2002

Caleb sensed the familiar presence before he heard the voices coming from down the hall. He closed his cell phone with a sigh, pushing his worry aside for the time being. Convincing Sam to come along was still his best option, spending forty minutes waiting for Sam to return weakened the soundness of his plan. Too much damn time to ruminate over the fact he hadn't talked to the youngest Winchester since July, despite leaving numerous voice messages.

The laughing grew closer, enabling Caleb to make out the loud conversation in the quiet halls. It was a Friday night, most of the campus at one function or another. He kicked back in the rolling chair, propped his feet on the obsessively neat desk he pegged as Sam's, and steeled himself for the inevitable Winchester storm.

"I can't believe we drove all the way to LA for nothing."

"Are you forgetting the Chinese food from Zen that you inhaled?"

The voices were male and female, but neither belonged to Sam. It took only a quick brush through their thoughts to identify Peter and Kim. So, Sammy had made friends. Somehow the knowledge was both comforting and irritating. He sincerely wanted the kid to be happy, but at the same time knowing what Dean had been through made the revelation bitter sweet.

"That barely helped ease the pain of standing in line for an hour," Peter said.

"Funny, I thought you were enjoying yourself immensely talking to the two scantily dressed women in front of us," Kim replied, her voice caustic and just outside the door.

"I was being friendly."

"You were being a royal jerk."

"Can we just forget about LA?"

A different female voice filtered in and Caleb smiled to himself as he touched her mind. So he'd get to meet the mysterious Jessica whom Sam had mentioned to Dean on the phone a few nights before. Deuce would be so jealous.

"I'd rather not be reminded of my incredibly naïve plan," Jessica said. "Especially since it bombed."

"It wasn't naïve. It was optimistic."

Caleb's heart quickened upon hearing Sam, a jumble of old emotions churning to the surface. A lock turned, the door squeaked and suddenly the room was cast in garish fluorescent glow.

"Sam's right, Jess. Who would have thought some stupid art show by a guy nobody has heard of would be a red carpet affair? Invitation only, my ass. If I can walk in and see a Monet, then I should be …" Peter's rambling stopped abruptly as he registered the strange person in his dorm room.

Caleb remained seated as Peter gave a startled yelp. He stumbled back nearly knocking his pretty girlfriend to the floor. Peter stood close to six feet, gangly with short dark blond hair. He was wearing tan slacks, a Polo shirt and a jacket that screamed Richie Rich.

"What the hell?" Kim, the girlfriend, snapped. "If this is another mouse…"

Peter recovered fairly quickly and Caleb gave him some credit for holding his arm out to prevent Kim from coming any further into the room. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my room?"

The psychic smiled, standing. "I thought this was Sam Winchester's room?"

Sam was suddenly there, shoving past Kim, knocking Peter's restraining arm away. "Caleb?"

Sam looked scared, obviously assuming Caleb was the bearer of bad news. Even as a part of him thought it was about damn time the kid showed some kind of concern for his family, for Dean, Caleb couldn't let him think the worst. He shook his head, even as his smile widened reassuringly. "Hey, Sammy. Long time, no see."

Irritation quickly surpassed worry. "What are you doing here?"

Caleb was aware that both girls had now entered the small room, were staring at him with almost the same intensity as Sam. They were a study in contrast. Dark-haired and curvy, Kim wore a short leather skirt, heavy black eye-liner and sported Ferrari red lipstick. Jessica looked the typical California girl. Sunny blond hair, cool blue eyes, and long legs showcased by a classic little black dress.

"You know this guy?" Peter asked, relaxing his stance.

"Sam?" Jessica moved forward, placing a hand on Sam's arm.

"It's alright," Sam said. "This is Caleb. My uncle."

"Uncle?" Kim asked. "Since when do you have a family?"

"Kim," Jessica chastised her friend.

"What? You said you thought he might be an orphan or something."

Caleb wasn't surprised that Sam hadn't told these people anything about his family. Old habits were hard to break. He turned his gaze to the girls, inclining his head. "Ladies."

"How'd you get in here?" Peter moved in closer, bolder now. "Sam didn't say anything about having a guest over."

"I introduced myself to your RA. She let me in, said it would be fine for me to wait. "

Kim snorted. "That's Lisa for you. She'd let in a gang of hoods with handguns if they were wearing tight pants and a killer smile."

Caleb glanced down at his faded jeans with a frown, shrugging innocently. "And here I thought it was my disarming personality that put her at ease."

Kim grinned, twirled a strand of her long dark hair. "Oh, I'd guess your personality was the last thing on her mind."

"Hello." Peter waved his hand in front of Kim's face. "Boyfriend. Standing right here."

Caleb glanced to Peter, sizing him up. "I'm sorry if I scared you, dude."

"Please." Peter scoffed. "I wasn't scared. Just surprised, that's all."

"You're not the only one," Sam said. He kept his eyes on Caleb. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I guess not." Caleb's smile faded. He'd braced himself for the cool reception, but hadn't completely let go of hopes he would be wrong. "You've been out of touch for a while, and I was in town on business."

"What kind of business?" Jessica asked.

Caleb met her challenging gaze. She was wary of him, nowhere in the vicinity of impressed like her buddy Kim. He found it amusing how she edged slightly in front of Sam. Pretty, smart and protective -Sammy didn't even realize what kind of trouble he was in for. "Architecture."

"Caleb has his own construction firm," Sam added.

"Specializing in large erections?" Kim asked.

Jessica cleared her throat, fair skin blushing furiously. "Kim."

Caleb glanced from Peter who he sensed was growing to dislike him more by the minute to Kim. "Is there any other kind?"

"Can I talk to you privately?" Sam asked. He clamped onto Caleb's arm, gesturing to a room off to their right.

"Since you asked so nicely." Caleb pulled away once they were alone. "I got to say, Sammy, Pastor Jim wouldn't be too impressed with your poor imitation of a gracious host. You know he prides himself on having civilized us with manners and shit."

"It's Sam." Sam shut the door. "And I didn't invite you. You didn't call before you came. Who has the problem with manners?"

Caleb dropped onto the bed. "If your invitations are anything like phone calls or letters home, I would have been shit out of luck."

Sam folded his arms over his chest. "What kind of business does Tri-Corp have in Palo Alto?"

"I didn't say it was for Tri-Corp. I had something to take care of in LA."

"So, you what? Told Dad you'd stop by and check up on me?"

"Johnny doesn't know I'm here."

"Then what?" Sam's gaze narrowed. "You really expect me to buy this as a social visit?"

"No. What would possess me to do something crazy like try to keep in touch? It's not like we're family or anything."

"Look, man…" Sam sighed. "I'm trying to concentrate on school. You know what that's like, right? I don't need any complications. My schedule is tough enough and I have a part-time work study at the library. It's…"

Caleb held up a hand to cut off the explanation. "But you've got time to hang out in LA at what was it…an art show?"

"Jessica invited me."

"Right."

Sam's face reddened. "Who are you to show up out of the blue to pass judgment on how I'm spending my time and who I'm spending it with?"

Caleb stood. "You're right. I'm not here to rehash old arguments. I've had my say in the numerous messages I left, and that one poetically penned letter I sent."

"Then why are you here, Caleb?"

So Sam wasn't going to acknowledge any of the attempts at contact. "Can you drop the holier than thou attitude for five minutes, John Junior. I'm not here to wreck the sweet set up you got going on. Your girlfriend won't find out any of your dirty secrets from me. "

"She's not my girlfriend," Sam defended. "We've just been hanging out. And I don't know what dirty secrets you're talking about."

"So, you've told your 'pal' Jessica and best bud Preppy Pete about your Dad and Dean? Because they seemed pretty surprised to see me, almost like they were pretty sure the stork just dropped you in the cabbage patch."

"I told Pete my dad was an ass and my brother was a drifter."

"A drifter?" Caleb's brow arched at the derogatory connotation that word conjured.

"What would you have me tell him? That my brother hunts monsters, is a member of The Ghost Busters Brigade?"

Caleb clenched his fists. A hundred different things to be said about Dean came to mind, none of them deprecating and the least being that Deuce was a part of a venerable institution like The Brotherhood. "You fed Jessica that load of crap too?"

"It's never come up."

"Your family has never come up?" Caleb knew that was bullshit. He'd done more than his fair share of dating. There was no way Sam would get away with the mysterious routine for long.

"We've only been talking for about a month."

"If Jessica hasn't asked you where you grew up or what your parents do for a living, she will. It's called conversation in the dating world, right up there with what's your sign and what do you want to be when you grow up."

"Then it's a good thing I've had so many years of practice in avoiding those types of questions. Dad was right. Subterfuge is your friend."

"Lies come back to bite you in the ass, Runt."

"So you told Moose and your other buddies about The Brotherhood, your life as a hunter?"

Caleb had told a version of the truth. A part of his life was more 'presentable' than what Sam and Dean had been given. "I wasn't banking on a monogamous relationship with Moose."

"I told you Jess is just a girl."

"Sure she is."

Sam clenched his fists. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

Caleb took a deep breath, refocusing on his purpose in coming. This wasn't about Sam. "I need your help."

"With whatever business you had in LA?" Sam's frown deepened. "I don't think so. Dean was always your hard hat groupie. Why not recruit him?"

Caleb propped his hands on his hips to keep them from Sam's throat. The hostility was palpable and even though a part of him realized it was residual anger leftover from the recent war with John, Caleb found it hard to brush it off. "What happened to the kid who was always so eager to be my partner on all those model bridge projects?"

"He grew up and went away to college to get his own life."

"Yeah. Now I remember." Caleb took a step toward Sam, holding his gaze. "But I don't need you to be my assistant architect. I need you to do what you were trained to do, what you're honor bound to do by the ring you were given. I need help with a hunt in New Mexico."

The look on Sam's face was incredulous. He laughed, but the sound held none of the typical Sammy warmth. "You've got to be kidding me? What part of 'normal' don't you understand?"

"Fuck normal," Caleb growled. He somehow found the strength to keep his voice low. "This isn't a normal situation."

"No." The teen shook his head emphatically, took a step back. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't wear the ring. I don't hunt anymore and there's no way in hell I'm going to New Mexico with you. You had your shot at the real world. Now it's my turn."

"I still hunted on the weekend. I spent vacations doing the same. It's possible to do both." Caleb hardened his gaze. "And whether you wear it or not, the ring binds you to us, to our world."

"I didn't choose to be a hunter. Dad chose for me. And in his eyes doing both the job and college isn't an option..."

Caleb felt his last tendrils of patience slipping away. He needed Sam to do this his way. "John isn't involved in this hunt. Come to New Mexico with me. I'll have you back before your first class on Monday."

Caleb watched Sam's face cloud over, the storm he'd been expecting now very close to the surface. "Wait, didn't Dean say something about doing a hunt with you in New Mexico? Is this some kind of ploy of his to pull me back in? Because if it is, it's not going to work. I just clawed my way out of that hell. No one and nothing is going to suck me back down." He ran his hands through his hair, began a tight pace. As usual the Winchester anger drowned out everything sensible Caleb was trying to present. "Damn it. I never should have called him," Sam continued. "I knew it would start all this shit up again and…"

"Don't fucking flatter yourself." Caleb reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting the jerky march. "Dean doesn't know I was coming to see you, and he sure as hell didn't send me. But he's the reason I'm here. I think he's in trouble and I need your goddamn help to get him out of it."

Caleb had the minute satisfaction of watching Sam's anger flee in the face of fear for his brother. The younger man blanched. "But you said he and Dad were fine."

Caleb hadn't actually said anything of the sort. "He's not dead. I'd know it if he was gone."

"Why didn't you tell me this from the beginning?"

"You wanted me to spill the beans in front of your new friends?"

"No." Sam chewed his bottom lip. "Why do you think he's in trouble? What aren't you telling me?"

Caleb twisted the silver ring on his right hand. "We were supposed to meet up at one of my contact's places this morning, but I got caught in LA." Something Caleb wouldn't be able to forgive himself for if Deuce didn't come out of this gig in one piece. "I tried to call him to tell him I was going to be running late, but he's not answering, and no one has seen him since yesterday."

"Maybe he's running late too, or just busy."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "That's not like Dean and you know it. He's the one Winchester that answers his damn phone, or at least returns his messages. I've left about a dozen."

"Did you have a vision?"

It was Caleb's turn to pale. "No, and I'm taking comfort in that. But I did experience something."

"What?" Sam moved closer. "What did you see?"

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "I didn't see anything. I felt something … heard it."

"Heard it?"

Caleb wasn't sure how to explain what had taken place. He'd been in the middle of a crowd, not an ideal situation. His head began to hurt like with a vision, but no images came as he felt a surge of energy when a mysterious sound filled his head. He still hadn't wrapped his own mind around the experience. "Humming."

"Humming?"

"Yes, Sam!" Caleb pressed his lips together, imitating the rumbling noise from deep within his throat. "Just like it sounds."

"Okay, so you heard humming. What did you feel?"

"I don't know, damn it. It wasn't like anything I've encountered before…some kind of force."

"Like _The_ Force?"

Caleb gave Sam what he hoped was a 'fuck you' glower and the kid backed off. "Okay. It was a unique event and you think it had something to do with Dean?"

"I think it has something to do with the hunt we were going to work on. And I have this gut feeling Deuce is in trouble. You do the math, College Boy. We don't rack up too many coincidences in our line of work."

"Gut feelings are not exactly scientific," Sam said. "Tell me about the hunt."

Caleb nodded, taking some comfort in seeing logical Sammy overtake angry Sam. "We were going to a little place called Taos. It's nestled in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range."

A hint of dimple framed Sam's mouth. "For a minute I was afraid you were going to tell me you two were headed for Roswell on some freaky quest for ET."

"No." Caleb smiled. "Taos is an art community-more flower children than aliens."

"So what's in Taos beside a band of struggling artists? I've never heard of it."

Caleb reclaimed his seat on the bed, shifting uncomfortably. "This is going to sound crazy, but we were looking into the Taos Hum."

"Excuse me?" Sam arched a brow. "The Taos Hum? Like the noise you heard in your vision? That kind of hum?"

"Yeah."

"You're hunting hums now?"

Caleb didn't like the condescending tone. He tried to recall what it was like to be nineteen and think you knew everything. "It's not your typical job, more like a favor for an old friend." Caleb had also thought it would be a good distraction for Dean.

"Let me guess, the old friend is a woman?"

"Yes, Celeste is a woman."

Sam snorted. "Classic. You two were going to get laid."

"She's not that kind of girl. She was a friend of my mom's."

"Oh." Sam took a seat on the bed beside Caleb. "Sorry."

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. "She's an artist, owns a little B&B in Taos called the Dream Catcher. Bird still keeps in touch with her and when she heard what kind of trouble Celeste was having she hooked us up."

"And her trouble is a humming noise?" The doubt was back, but Caleb was sure he caught a hint of the old Sammy curiosity.

"Only certain people who come to Taos can hear the hum or so the legend goes. Celeste has suddenly become one of those who can hear it. Apparently, it's not always a cool gift- not like death visions, although some of the symptoms are similar. Migraines, nose bleeds, nausea. It's affecting her work."

"So you and Dean thought you could find the source of this great mystery."

"It's right up The Brotherhood alley. We were going to do some preliminary investigating, then maybe let Pastor Jim take a look."

"And you think the humming you heard in your vision or whatever it was could be the same humming that a group of people in Taos claim to be hearing?"

Caleb rubbed his neck. "I don't know what to think. I just know I was supposed to meet Dean at The Dream Catcher and then we were going to head out to Tucker's, but I screwed around in LA and now he's not there and I have no fucking idea what's going on or where he's at."

"Who's Tucker? Is he another artist?"

"No." Caleb couldn't help to smile at the thought of the big bear of a black man sitting down at a pottery wheel or working over a kiln. "I met 'Father' Tucker a few years back when I checked out the spiritualist group he runs near Taos in a little town called Trinity. At the time, I thought they might have some cult ties, but it turned out they were legit. Tucker is just a do-gooder trying to spread his message of all that peace, love and harmony shit."

Sam bumped his shoulder. "I'm sure you were disappointed. I know how you love a good cultist bashing."

Caleb smirked, finding himself lulled into the familiar moment. "Nothing like dealing a blow to the bad guys." He looked at Sam. "So, you'll come?"

Sam looked torn, which destroyed the reprieve between them. Caleb knew what he was going to say before the words slipped from his lips. "I can't, Caleb. I have a test and a major paper coming up before the Thanksgiving break, then finals. Why don't you call Bobby or better yet, Dad."

"I tried to call your Dad." Caleb pushed off the bed, deciding it was safer if he put some distance between them. "He's not answering his phone and Bobby is in Kentucky with Jim. They're too far away. You're the closest contact in more ways than one." Choosing Sammy to help had been a two-fold plan. He wasn't lying when he said the youngest Winchester was the closest Brotherhood member in the area, but he also knew if Dean was in trouble, then Sam would have the best chance of finding him.

"Is this like that time with the Raw Head when you said I could find Dean faster than you?"

Sam was nothing if not smart. "Yes. You may pick up on something that I might miss."

"I'm not a psychic, Caleb."

"But you're his brother."

"I know that and I love him. But you know Dean as well as I do, he can handle himself. He's not going to be taken out by some mysterious chanting in some artsy tourist trap."

"I do know Dean." Caleb strode forward. Dean was capable, but he wasn't invincible, as Sam chose to believe at times convenient to him. "I know he wouldn't even hesitate in dropping everything no matter how important it was if he had even the remotest inkling that you were in trouble. Goddamnit, Sam. He's taken care of you his whole life. You can return the fucking favor for once."

"Sam?" A knock at the door heralded Jessica's soft voice. "Is everything alright?"

Caleb didn't feel one bit of guilt for not maintaining his 'inside' voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sam.

The younger hunter stood and cleared his throat. "It's fine. I'll be out in a minute." He turned on Caleb, his tone changed, falling to a hard, sharp whisper. "I never asked Dean to sacrifice anything for me. You have no right to throw _his _choices in my face."

"And you have no right to toss his sacrifices aside just because you've invented a new life for yourself. You can't pretend the last nineteen years didn't happen."

They stared at one another, neither willing to back down. Finally, Sam blinked. "I'll give you two days."

"I'll take them." Caleb pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Sam. "We fly out from LA first thing in the morning."

Sam took the package, peeked inside. "Fly?"

Caleb shrugged. "Two days doesn't give us time to fuck around, and the sooner we find Deuce the better I'll feel."

"I'll have Pete or Jess drop me off at the airport."

"You do that." Caleb started to go, but stopped and turned to face Sam once more.

"And just to set the record straight, Runt, your brother's been doing just fine without you."

_RcJSnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

"You're never going to let me forget that." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "I'm always going to be the bad guy in the scenario no matter what I say or do. When you look back, Dean is all you see. " The wind was picking up, the last of the sunlight fading away and Caleb didn't seem to give a shit that Sam was miserable or that they were wasting time, time Dean didn't have. "Why even talk about it at all? It's not doing Dean one damn bit of good."

"I love how Deuce is now your main concern."

"What is your fucking problem, Reaves?" Sam growled, frustrated at Caleb for questioning his loyalty and dredging the old argument with his father. He wanted to punch the older hunter again. "We can't change the past. Saving him now is my only priority. I thought I made that clear in Florida. All this demon shit has seriously fucked with you."

Caleb continued to glare at him, seething with unrestrained contempt. "This has nothing to do with demons."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam punched a finger in Caleb's direction. "Not even the personal kind?"

Caleb knocked his hand away. "Don't make this about me."

"I don't have to. You've always taken it up as your cross to bear. You can't tell me that Dean wasn't the main reason you were pissed when I left for college. You didn't even consider it might have been the best thing for me. You wanted me to come back, just to make him happy. Good old Damien to the rescue, always there to take up the slack where I failed. Where Dad failed. Isn't that right?"

Caleb shoved him. "Shut your goddamn mouth."

Sam shoved him back. "What was it you told me? Truth hurts? Truth is you fell asleep on the job last time, and this time you were too distracted and that's why Dean is gone." Sam felt satisfied pinning the blame onto Caleb. Most of the time Sam felt the blame being weighted on his shoulders, but not this time.

He watched the older man draw back his fist. Sam prepared himself for round two relishing in another opportunity to relieve some of his own pent up frustration when the door behind them suddenly opened and Bobby stepped out. "What the hell are you boys still doing out here? I heard you pull in better than twenty minutes ago."

Sam waited until Caleb had dropped his hand and turned to face Bobby before relaxing his stance. He shoved his hands back in his pockets and looked sheepishly at the mechanic. "We were waiting for an invitation."

"You two vampires now?" Bobby took a moment to study the younger hunters. "Come to think of it, you kind of favor the living dead."

Caleb brushed past him. "Coming from a vanity plate like you that really hurts, Bobby."

"Watch the smart mouth, Junior or I'll have no problem setting you up with a matching set of shiners."

"We got in a fight," Sam said as he moved past Singer to enter the house. "No big deal."

Bobby closed the door, scratching his beard. "Hell of a time to go looking for trouble at a bar, ain't it?"

Sam cut his gaze to Caleb, unsure of how much he should say. "We haven't been drinking."

Caleb didn't seem to have the same quandary. "And this fight didn't require a third party."

Bobby rocked back on his heels. "Dean's been gone less than two days and you've already been pounding on each other?"

To Sam's surprise the mechanic started laughing, then punched a fist skyward. "Guess I won that bet, Winchester." He returned his gaze to Sam. "Too bad your sorry ass Daddy ran out on us before I could collect my hundred smackeroos."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. He didn't like what Bobby was inferring regarding his father.

Bobby turned his back on them, starting for the living room. "You take the alpha dog out of the pack, there's bound to be some gnashing of teeth and spilling of blood, boys."

"Alpha dog?" Sam found considerable consolation in the way Caleb's smug smirk vanished. The older psychic practically ran to catch up to the mechanic. "Deuce isn't the alpha dog."

Bobby snorted. "Keep telling yourself that,_ Junior_."

Sam joined them, making a point of taking his time and presenting a much more constrained objection. "We weren't volleying for some position of power." He wasn't exactly sure what they were doing, but it had nothing to do with who was the leader. Sam had no problem with letting Caleb think he was in charge.

"Who said it has anything to do with power?" Bobby sat on the edge of his recliner. "Wolves and dogs don't do battle just for dominance. They fight for favor."

"Any more words of wisdom, Great Dog Whisperer?" Caleb snarled. "Perhaps something useful this time? Like maybe where Dean is?"

Bobby didn't seem chagrined in the least as he pointed to the pile of books and papers spread on the coffee table. "I've been working on that for the last two days." He cocked a brow. "Where the hell have you been?"

Sam didn't miss the way Caleb seemed to shrink just a little under the mechanic's scrutiny. Despite their previous confrontation a surge of protectiveness surprised him. "He was out of cell range, liked I figured."

Caleb shot him a quick thankful look before nodding. "I was working a job in southern Florida. An elemental."

"You let that thing get a hold of you? You look like shit."

"I did most of that," Sam said.

The glare Caleb shot him was priceless. "So, any word on Deuce?"

Bobby sighed. "I've got a couple of things rolling. Nothing promising yet, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed."

"We don't have time for wishful thinking," Caleb snapped. "We need to be out there."

"Out where?" Bobby fired back. "You holding out on us tough guy because the last time I checked a blind goose chase yields no game."

"What _do_ you know so far, Bobby?" Sam asked. He needed to pacify the situation before Bobby and Caleb went at it.

"I know Griffin's not involved."

Caleb frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I've had Ethan and Elijah checking into that angle. They know the man better than anyone. Ethan called not long before you two showed. He says Porter has exiled himself to his cabin in North Carolina, licking his wounds after Gideon's funeral. There's no sign he's been plotting in anything as of yet."

"That's not exactly true." Sam cut his gaze to Caleb and then looked to Bobby once more. "We think he had something to do with Agatha Hennings. Maybe he was the one behind her plan to use Caleb in her spell. But, this doesn't seem to fit."

"Kidnapping is right up his alley, Sammy. He had no problem with it in the past."

"As a part of a bigger agenda," Sam pointed out. "Killing you would have disgraced Mac in front of the coven, taken out the Knight. He had something to gain-the loyalties of the covens. So he takes Dean out now, to what end? We know the covens are more or less with us now."

"Then who? Other hunters? Rogues like Gordon who want to shake-up the chain of command even further."

Bobby cleared his throat. "I thought about that, too. I have Ellen checking in with all her old contacts. She's served whiskey to a hell of lot of hunters over the years."

"What about Boone?" Caleb asked. "He might have heard something."

"Boone is keeping his eyes and ears open. We'll be the first to know if something turns up on his end."

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. "Did you call Dad? Because I tried with no damn luck."

"Haven't talked to him in person, but Carolyn assures me she's working on getting a message to him as we speak."

"Where the hell is he?"

"Triad business."

"Did you try Esme?" Sam asked. "She may know something."

Caleb shook his head.

"I don't want to put her or Josh in anymore of an awkward position unless we have to."

Sam knew Caleb felt guilty about the recent trade-off the Sawyer family had made to save his life and was trying to honor Joshua's request that they not call him. "You're right. We'll save them for a last resort."

"So who does that leave?"

Sam reluctantly fingered the elephant in the room. "There's the deal."

"That doesn't make any sense. Deuce has six months left. If it's contractually solid on his end, then it's iron-clad on theirs as well." Caleb smirked. "And you blew away the Crossroad Demon, so I'm guessing that bitch isn't involved."

"Not that bitch…" Sam's mind latched onto the terrifying idea at the same instant he watched Caleb's face cloud over, the older man reaching the same conclusion.

"But an even worse bitch," Caleb added.

"Who?" Bobby demanded.

Sam looked at Caleb, his own dread and fear reflected in the other hunter's gold gaze. "Rose."

_RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

His body rolled with the gentle swaying, the warmth on his face and arms lulling him. He could detect the presence of the sun above, its intensity breaching his closed lids like morning light through an open bedroom window. Birds chirped in the distance, their singing intermixing with the soft lapping of water. A faint tingling of wind chimes was carried by the light breeze. He was tempted to stay there, drifting in and out of awareness if not for the damn whistling of a familiar tune pulling at long ago memories.

Dean Winchester lifted one eyelid, then the other. The noise stopped. He brought a hand up to shield his gaze from the brightness, blinking to bring the dark shape looming over him into clarity.

"It's about time you decided to join me, my boy." Pastor Jim Murphy laughed. "I was never one to fish alone."

Caught somewhere between mostly asleep and instantly alert, Dean jerked to sitting, his sudden movement incurring a more pronounced rocking beneath him. He reached out to anchor himself, his hands finding rough-flaked metal sides. He was in the faded blue aluminum flat-bottom fishing boat from Pastor Jim's farm. "Holy shit."

"Steady now," Jim said. He leaned forward from where he was sitting on the long bench seat at the back of the vessel, held out a hand to help Dean up. "No capsizing today."

"Jim?" Dean looked suspiciously to the proffered hand, then to the man before him. Same silver hair, blue eyes, and faded overalls he'd known nearly his entire life. "Wha…Where are we?"

The pastor smiled. "Somewhere safe." He winked, gesturing wide to the pond they were floating on, the expansive green fields and huge oaks before them. "We're home, my boy. Home"

Jim's warm calloused hand encircled Dean's with a firm grip, and the young hunter allowed himself to be pulled up from the bottom of the boat where he stood on shaky legs before sitting on the other bench seat facing the pastor. "Am I dead this time?"

Dean recalled his last encounter with the past Guardian. It took place while in a coma, in the hospital after the run in with the semi. Jim had been there to assure him things would turn out alright in the end, to remind him of why he had to return.

"No." Jim let his hand go, patted his knee. "You're not dead. Just resting, my boy."

"Resting?" Dean frowned. "I don't have time to rest."

"But it's Sunday." Jim reached for the fishing pole propped by his side. "And you know what I always say about Sundays."

Dean nodded. "No working unless your ox is in the ditch." He shook his head. "But you never had an ox."

"Exactly." Jim picked up a metal pail of deep rich soil, placed it on the seat near him. "Jesus was a fisher of men, you know. He would surely appreciate the skill it takes to hook one of those tricky bass."

It was the same excuse Jim used every Sunday to justify his absences at any church functions other than required services. Fishing was important. "The only thing you ever caught in this pond was a bad habit and the occasional blue gill."

The pastor laughed. "Now you sound like your father."

Dean's own grin faded at the mention of his dad. He licked his lips. "Have you seen him?"

Jim met his gaze. "I'm not here to talk about John."

"Then why are you here?" Dean looked around. "For that matter, why am I here?"

"You needed me."

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"No more than usual." Jim smiled, but Dean noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm afraid you've fallen into the hands of our adversaries."

Dean groaned as a surge of memory filled in the gaps. "You mean I'm sleeping with the enemy."

Jim ran two fingers over his mustache. "Yes, how exactly did you phrase that to me once…you danced like wild chimpanzees?"

"We did the crazy monkey dance," Dean corrected with a bit of mortification. Jim had rescued Dean from his libido one other time during a hunt in Boca Raton when a beautiful siren had led him into a deadly trap. This was worse. "Damn." He recalled the very hot woman from the bar. The woman who kept him distracted with tequila shots and hands like an octopus who later turned out to be possessed by no other than the demon formerly known as Meg. "Rose." He growled. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"You would not be the first, nor will you be the last to fall for a beautiful face. It has happened to more seasoned men-a couple of them former Triad members."

"Not you?"

"No, no, no." Jim rested the pole across his lap. "I was only swayed by one woman and she had the heart of an angel."

"Miss Emma."

"She saved me from many pitfalls of the human condition." Jim dug his hand into the bucket, plucking a wriggling worm from the black dirt. He baited his hook, glancing at Dean. "But I did find myself behind enemy lines once."

"In the war?" Dean asked. Jim didn't speak about his time as a soldier, but the boys had found medals. The Purple Heart and The Bronze Star were among them. There was no need to elaborate. Jim was already a hero in their eyes.

The pastor cast his line, reeled in the slack. "It was a situation like no other I ever encountered again. Not even with all the horrors I faced in hunting." He shook his head, propped the pole against the side of the boat. "Not even in the face of my sweet Emma's passing did I endure such suffering."

Dean swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from Jim. "What happened?"

Jim leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I was a prisoner of war, my boy. All rules are tossed out the window. My captors sought vengeance and veneration. They hoped to break me. It was the one time I felt abandoned by all. I am not ashamed to tell you in the face of such darkness I feared losing that part of myself that made me human."

Dean's mouth went dry even as his palms began to sweat. "You know about the deal, don't you?"

"I know what's weighing on your heart." Jim reached out, covering Dean's hands with his own. "I always did."

Dean tried for a smile. "The cost of being the wise Skin Horse in a nursery full of idiots?"

"The price of fiercely loving you." Jim tightened his hold. "A burden I would gladly bare ten times over."

"Even after all this?" Dean pulled away. "Gideon's dead. I'm going to Hell. There's no one to be The Guardian. I've made a mess of all your plans."

Jim shook his head. "Plans have a way of unfolding in ways we never imagined, my boy. It's like scattering a handful of wildflower seeds into the wind, having faith enough to wait and see what will take hold and bloom."

"You at least expect flowers…not a bunch of weeds."

The pastor tilted his head. "Didn't you once tell me that your mother loved daisies?"

Dean hesitated, not understanding the veer in conversation. "Yeah. I used to pick them for her out of our yard."

"Weeds. The lot of them." Jim grinned. "Beautiful, wild, but weeds just the same."

Dean snorted. "Am I ever going to win an argument with you?"

"Not using faulty logic, especially if it degrades one of the finest men I know."

"What if I'm no longer that man?" It was what Dean feared beyond the pain, beyond his own physical suffering. "What if I go to Hell and they twist me into something terrible, something they can use to hurt the people we love?"

"Dean, if that were possible you wouldn't be here now." Jim's face took on a pained look of sadness. "Even as they wield power over your body, they can't begin to touch your spirit."

"That's why I'm here? Because Rose and her buddies are torturing me?"

"You sought a safe haven, hiding in plain sight, just like a jade dragon." Jim waved a hand. "Mackland would call it a type of self-preservation technique. Not unlike the silence you used for a few months when your mother died."

Dean looked around them, dropped his hand over the side of the boat to let his fingers slide through the cool water. He remembered that quiet time when adults didn't understand and it was easier to nod yes and shake his head no at questions. Baby Sammy understood that he just needed to find his new place without his mom. When he was ready he began using his words. "Makes a crazy kind of sense, I guess. The real world always seemed so far away when I was out here. It was like I was untouchable."

Jim patted the side of the boat as if it were a living creature. "As I recall, you did spend your fair share of time drifting aimlessly in this old girl."

Dean brought his hand in, flicked the excess water on Jim. "If I remember that was something you encouraged me to do." Jim was still giving him gifts.

"I often felt powerless to help you. It was a battle I never seemed adequately prepared for."

"You did more than you know." Mackland had spoken of his failings where Dean was concerned. Neither man could have been further from the truth. "More than I could ever repay you for."

Jim cleared his throat. "If I could spare your life, deny you one ounce of misery, I would make it so without any thought of consequence."

Dean laughed, the sound catching in his emotion-constricted throat emerging more like a sob. "That kind of thinking is what got us to this point, Old Man." He had only wanted to save his little brother. It had seemed the only recourse at the time.

Jim smiled. "That sounded like a bit of Guardian wisdom."

"Speaking of which." Dean's brows drew together; he wiggled his ring finger letting the silver catch sunlight. "You should have told me about a lot of things. Sending me out on silent voyages around the pond was about as vague as you could get. Caleb had Dad shouting commands at him for twenty years. Sam has Mac. And although I appreciate the surreal as much as the next guy, your 'Lady' friend isn't much in the conversation department."

"My only excuse is a poor one." Jim heaved a sigh. "Being human I took for granted the condition of my mortality. We all think we're going to live forever, even those of us who should know better."

"So maybe expiration dates can come in handy." Dean couldn't garner any real heat towards his predecessor. It was like trying to stay angry with a doting grandfather. "At least I won't take some things for granted."

Jim scratched his chin. "I remember Julian once telling me that the only blessing his cancer brought was the gift of saying goodbye."

Dean felt his eyes sting. "I can't imagine telling them goodbye…seeing what it will do." Telling Sam and then Caleb about the deal he'd made had been the two hardest conversations of his life.

"I believe Julian took some comfort in the fact Maxim went first, sparing him that most unpleasant task of bidding his ever vigilant protector farewell."

Dean ran a hand down his face erasing the tears that had slipped past his lashes. "If Julian was anything like Caleb then I can understand that."

"Caleb means well, as I know you understand. No one wants to face their biggest fears, especially those rare few who believe themselves capable of holding back the floodgates."

"Sometimes I understand why Dad took the deal he did, got it over with quick."

Jim reached out, his rough fingers encircling Dean's wrist. "You were always stronger than your father."

Dean was caught off guard by the words, by the sincere look of apology he found in Jim's eyes. "I loved him like a son, but he could not find a way to get past his own pain. He never was able to find a safe harbor in the presence of his suffering, even when it was offered to him over and over again by you, by your brother." Jim gestured once more to the pond, the farm. "John never found his way home."

"Is he home now?"

"Never fear, my boy." A watery smile graced Jim's face. He reached out and tenderly cupped Dean's cheek. "He's with your mother."

"I'll never see them again." Death would bring no homecoming for Dean. "I'll never see any of you again."

"Sometimes what seems like the end is only an opportunity for a new beginning. Something brighter, better _can_ arise from the ashes."

Dean shook his head. It was easy to see where Caleb got his idealistic notions. "Like a phoenix?"

Jim's smile grew and he patted Dean's face before removing his touch. "Exactly. A mighty jade phoenix. Hope is the thing with wings."

Dean laughed a genuine gut-churning chuckle this time. "Only _you_ would try to give a pep talk about going to Hell."

The pastor chortled. "I had plenty of practice considering the lot I preached to - your father and Bobby being top of that list."

The younger hunter sighed. "We miss you, Merlin."

"I'm still with you-with Caleb and Samuel."

"They're trying to save me."

Jim nodded. "They'll find you soon."

"I worry about them…if I'm gone."

"Yes." Jim met his gaze. "They will have to find their way, a new common ground so to speak."

Dean frowned. "They have common ground, they're family."

"Yes, but _you _are both the common ground they share, and the obstacle they must overcome."

"I don't understand how can I be both?"

"Because you are completely different things to each of them."

"I just want them both to be safe…and I know they'll do anything to save me."

"I have no doubt they will figure it all out in time."

Dean was talking about the deal, but realized Jim was speaking on his current situation. It brought little comfort. "Promise me you'll watch out for them if I can't."

"I am already on the job, my boy," Jim assured.

"Really?" Dean frowned, never one to put much stock in coincidences. "I bet you wouldn't be all that surprised to know they brought home a stray…a mutt by the name of Boo Radley."

"You don't say." Jim nodded. "An honorable name. I was always afraid it would be rather confusing while I was around, but I was rather fond of Jem. And of course there was Dill."

"You're changing the subject."

"Am I? I thought we were discussing dogs. By the way, Atticus and Scout wanted to tag along today, but you know how they are in the boat."

Dean rolled his eyes at Jim's lack of subtlety. "You mentioned capsizing earlier. That's about all the beasts were good for."

Jim laughed. "That and scaring away the fish."

"What fish?"

"Are you issuing a challenge, my boy? A friendly bet perhaps?" Jim picked up his pole. "Because I have faith that there is a five pound bass in this pond with my name on it."

"You're on." Dean smirked. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Spending a sunny day fishing with Jim was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. "As long as we don't dredge up Jonas's whale or hook some freaky mermaid you forgot to mention."

"Nothing so exciting." Jim raised a finger. "Although I did manage to bring this basket of goodies."

Dean noticed for the first time the familiar picnic basket nestled by Jim's feet. "Tell me there are some peanut butter cookies stuffed in there."

Jim winked. "Burnt around the edges, just the way you like them."

RCJ


	3. Chapter 3

Edge of Winter 3

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Hey all! Posting from my vacation, how dedicated is that. My lovely beta is also on vacation, so although she worked her magic on this months ago, it didn't get a run through with her fine tooth comb, so all mistakes that might be lingering are mine and mine alone. Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews. I have tried to answer them, but I feel I've been out of town more this summer than at home. So your patience is so appreciated. I have to tell you I am so excited that you all are withholding judgment on Sam and Caleb until the end. It means a lot! And for those new readers, who have decided to give this story a try because of Sam, welcome.

RCJ

"Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannont forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future." –

Beverly Flanigan

The sound of screaming jolted Sam awake, his brother's name echoing around him. It took a moment for him to recognize the collective disorganization of Bobby's library where he had fallen asleep on the couch surrounded by his research. Caleb shouted Dean's name again. Sam fought his way out of the sunken leather, freeing himself of the patched quilt he had mysteriously acquired sometime during the night. He stumbled over a stack of books desperate to make it to Caleb.

He could feel the older psychic's panic and fear as if it were his own. Bobby met him in the hallway, flanked by his dogs Sampson and Lola. The mechanic was wild-eyed, shot gun in one hand, crucifix in the other. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded. The Rottweilers low growls rumbled in their throats.

Sam moved past them without a reply, making his way to the back bedroom. He opened the door but found the bed empty. The bathroom light was on and Sam heard the distinct sounds of someone being sick as he stepped inside. "Caleb?"

He got no reply and moved to the door. Bobby squeezed past him, ordering the dogs to stay. The mechanic took one look at Caleb then raised his knowing gaze to Sam. "Something you boys want to share with me?"

Sam watched as Bobby returned his eyes to Caleb, who still had his arms braced against the toilet. He was shirtless. The superficial burns from the holy water stood out vividly along with the bruises from their earlier fight pronounced more by Caleb's apparent weight loss. Bobby met Sam's gaze again and he knew they were in trouble.

"Ain't no damn way an elemental did that. What the hell is going on with him?" Bobby demanded. "He looks and acts strung out. Either a monkey's hitched a ride on his back or he's been sharing his body with an unwanted visitor. My money is on the latter."

Caleb lifted his head and glared at the mechanic. "I'm right here. Stop browbeating Sam."

"But you're a better liar than he is." Sam swallowed thickly as Bobby's blue gaze pinned him like an insect to mat board. "You boys messing with demons?"

Caleb returned his attention to the toilet and his dry heaving, abandoning Sam to the inquisitor. "Could we maybe talk about this over a pot a coffee? Maybe an early breakfast?"

"Does this look like a fucking truck stop to you?"

Sam conjured a downtrodden look. "Please." He gestured weakly to Caleb. "We'll explain this. Just give us a minute."

"Damn right you'll explain. Bunch of idiots…" Sam recognized the weakening of the gruff exterior, breathed a sigh of relief as concern edged out over anger. "I'm not having anymore deals with the dark side on my watch. You got that? " Bobby opened one of the sink cabinets, withdrawing a wash cloth which he wet and tossed to Sam. "Take care of him."

Sam folded the warm rag and laid it on the back of Caleb's neck, leaving a steadying hand there for a moment. "Hey? You okay?"

The glare wasn't unexpected. "I'm peachy."

The reply was so Dean-like that Sam felt the ache of longing like a punch. He didn't believe this was a side effect of the recent possession; Caleb had been calling out for his brother. "Is this about Dean?"

Caleb pulled the washcloth from his neck, wiped it over his mouth before sitting back, his bruised body resting against the tub. "I'm going to kill that fucking bitch, Sammy. I swear to God I'm going to finish her once and for all in the most painful way possible."

Sam's heart quickened. "Was it a vision?"

"I don't know what the hell it was." Caleb threw the wet rag into the tub. "It seemed more like a nightmare, but I know I was connected with Dean. Maybe she's toying with us."

"Maybe it's a Knight thing?" It frustrated Sam that so much about their positions were shrouded in mystery. Sam had read other Knight's journals, including Maxim Madrigal's. Maxim had written of being able to 'physically' feel when Julian or Victor was in danger, though he had no psychic abilities. Victor, their Scholar, postulated that it was similar to the twin phenomenon that occurred when their siblings were in jeopardy; they shared the experience through some unexplainable link. In theory whatever connection Knight shared with Guardian and Scholar would be amplified by Caleb's talents. "Was this similar to what happened when Conner took me and that psycho Peter kidnapped Dean?"

Caleb didn't look comforted by Sam's conjecture. "Maybe…I guess. Things concerning you and Deuce are more vivid since Wyoming." He ran a hand through his hair. "There wasn't anything specific."

Sam bit his lip. "What did you see?"

"Rose is there. She's doing things to him…he's hurt." Caleb met his gaze, looking nothing like the fearless, capable hunter Sam knew him to be. "He's in pain."

The lost helpless look was so foreign, so rare that Sam couldn't help but to recall the few times he'd been witness to it. Each time it had concerned his brother, and each time it had scared the hell out of Sam. But none more than the morning they left Palo Alto, New Mexico bound.

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Los Angeles

November 2002

Caleb looked down at his watch, tapping the plane tickets on his thigh. He told Sam to be there at eight. It was ten after. First class was about to begin boarding. If the kid was a no show…

He stood and began to pace, needing to do something with the pent-up energy knotting his stomach, twisting his muscles. He glanced towards the gate entrance, acknowledging that lack of sleep and worry on his part could easily prove a lethal combination for the youngest Winchester if Sam caused them to miss their flight.

Caleb's gut feeling that Dean was in trouble was bad enough, but the nightmares he'd been plagued with last night were confirmation the kid was in dire straits. It wasn't specific information, not one legitimate detail they could work from and no more humming, but it had been effective in assuring Caleb they needed to hurry, they needed to find Dean.

Dean's pain had come through loud and clear. Caleb blamed himself. He had screwed around, getting caught up in the outside world John so often warned him about, and Dean was paying the price. Pastor Jim would be disappointed. New Mexico was supposed to be a vacation of sorts, a distraction at the most, not Dean's demise.

The weight of his thoughts startled him. Dean couldn't die.

"Caleb?"

Sam's voice pulled him from his morose ruminating, and he forced a tight grin because Jessica was standing next to the kid, holding his hand. "I was wondering if you were going to make it."

"Sorry," Jessica replied. "I didn't expect the morning traffic to be so heavy on a Saturday."

Caleb shook his head at the blonde. "It's okay. They haven't started boarding."

"Still, I should let you two get ready." She gave Sam a warm smile. "Call me? I'd be glad to come and pick you up."

"Sure. Thanks again for bringing me."

"It wasn't a big deal. I didn't mind."

Caleb refrained from rolling his eyes at the two, tempted to tell Sam to go ahead and kiss her already. Instead he pulled an envelope from his pocket and offered it to Jessica. "I've ridden in a car with Sam for long periods of time; I at least think we owe you something."

Jessica eyed the envelope as one might a stray dog, not sure if it were friend or foe. "Really, it was no trouble."

"And the two invitations were no trouble for me to get."

She arched one delicate brow. "Invitations?"

"To the art exhibit." Caleb gave Sam a small smile. "Sam mentioned it was by invitation only. It so happens that I know the curator of that particular gallery and she found passes for next weekend's showing. Like your friend Pete said, if you can walk in and see a Monet, you should be able to look at this chump's work." Caleb cleared his throat. "Besides, I understand it's the final one."

"I didn't realize it was going to end so soon." Jessica took the envelope with a smile. "This is amazing."

"I'll try to have Sammy back before then. You two can make a night out of it."

Jessica looked at Sam, an amused smile on her pretty face. "Sammy?"

Caleb grinned when the youngest Winchester groaned. "My older brother's legacy to me."

The mention of Dean destroyed the moment's reprieve of levity. Caleb gestured to where he had left his bag. "I'm going to get my things. It was nice meeting you, Jessica."

"Same here. Have a safe flight."

Caleb stepped away, giving them privacy, although he highly doubted Sam would use it to his benefit. In the time it took for him to retrieve his carry on, Sam was standing by his side, a familiar scowl of impatience plastered on his face. "You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Runt?"

"You hope to have me back by the weekend? What the hell happened to having me back on Monday morning? I have finals coming up. I can't take a whole week off from school. I have to think about my scholarship. I need to back on Tuesday, at the latest."

He gripped the handle of his bag, channeling his anger to prevent another argument they didn't need. "I hope you are back by Monday, Tuesday at the latest. That means we'll have found your brother."

"But you don't think that's going to be the case?" Sam wouldn't let it go. "You think they'll be complications to the job."

"Complications?" Caleb spat. "Dean is missing. That is the only complication." The only thing that mattered.

"And as soon as we find him, I can come back?"

"It depends on whether Dean needs you to stay."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Just what it sounds like."

"You think he's seriously hurt, don't you?" Sam took a step back. His voice hardened, even as Caleb sensed the kid's fear. "This was bound to happen sooner or later."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're scared. I can see it on your face. You're worried we won't find him in time…that maybe we're already too late."

It was the calm and matter-of-fact way Sam spoke the words that pissed Caleb off. It was as if Sam had expected such a visit and had prepared himself, as if Dean's death was inevitable. "Shut up."

"Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

Had Sam forgotten about his lack of love greeting? "I told you everything I knew last night."

"Did you have another vision?"

Caleb sighed, shifted his bag to his other hand. "I had a nightmare."

"About Dean?"

Caleb pointed to their gate where they had just called for first class passengers. "We're boarding."

Sam caught his arm. "You showed up at my dorm out of the blue, spurring questions from my friends I wasn't ready to answer, then you practically drag me on this insane goose chase, and now you're going to pull Dad's 'need to know' shit. I don't think so."

Caleb pulled away. "I know he's hurt, damn it. Is that what you want to hear? I know he's scared, and alone, and we're too fucking far away to do him one damn bit of good." He lowered his voice as a few passengers cast wary glances their way. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Sam, and I'm sorry that I put a hitch in your secret identity scam, but there's a damn good chance that Dean may be dying."

"Dying?" Sam's voice was small, childlike. Caleb would have felt bad if it hadn't been a reprieve from Sam's cold clinical façade from before. "Dean's dying?"

"Not if we can get there in time." Caleb slung his bag over his shoulder. "Now are you ready to go, or what?"

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"Sam? Did you hear me?"

Caleb's face came back into focus as Sam blinked a few more times. "What?"

"I said we're going to get there in time. Dean's not going to die."

Sam wondered if the other psychic had gleaned his thoughts, doubted it was likely considering Caleb's pinched and drawn features. It was more likely he read the fear on Sam's face, sensed the sickening worry, threatening to give Sam his own turn at the porcelain throne. "But you're sure Rose is there?"

Caleb pushed himself off the floor to sit on the edge of Bobby's tub. "Yeah. That came through loud and clear."

"Can you track her?"

"I wasn't reading her. It was all coming from Dean. I don't think he has a clue as to where he is, just that he's in a world of trouble." Caleb leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "I don't think he even knew I was there."

"Maybe you could track him?"

Caleb glanced up. "If I had the equivalent of a psychic GPS, then yeah."

"You've done it before. You've connected with us across states."

"Connecting and tracking aren't the same." Caleb licked his lips. "It's like knowing the Grand Canyon is out there, somewhere in Arizona. Without a map or road signs, knowing doesn't do you one damn bit of good."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"It's been my experience that where there's one demon, there's at least three or four skulking about."

Sam nodded, thinking back to when Dad had been taken. The demons had worked as a skilled unit to lay a trap for them. They had encountered such tactics more often since the release of the hundreds of demons from Hell. "Rose isn't likely to be working alone."

"So, we call up some of her peers and nicely ask where their bitch of a sister is."

"You mean use a summoning spell?" Sam frowned. "Or are you talking about the amulet."

Caleb smiled. "I was thinking you could just use your cell phone. Give your girlfriend a ring. Or is texting Ruby's thing?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Call her and tell her to meet us here."

Sam sighed. "Bobby's not going to like this."

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Bobby not liking the fact they were inviting demons into his home was an understatement. Sam concentrated on his eggs as the mechanic yelled at Caleb.

"Do you know how many times I've actually invited a black-eyed son of a bitch into my house, Junior?"

"You let Sam in when he was possessed."

Sam glared at Caleb. "Leave me out of this." He had learned early that laying low during a battle of wills between the older hunters was a smart tactical maneuver. The only exception was with his father where Sam seemed unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

"That was a highly thought out plan," Bobby defended.

Caleb snorted. "Meaning it was one of Deuce's off the cuff, seat of the pants kind of plan."

"It was Sam."

"And this is for Dean."

Bobby shook his head. "How many times have I told you boys you can't trust demons? They lie, they manipulate, they twist everything to their advantage."

Sam knew that was directed at him. He stopped eating and answered, "I don't trust her either, but I'm not above using her to save Dean." He didn't know if it satisfied Bobby, but the older hunter directed his next diatribe at Caleb tossing Noah Seaver's tarnished amulet on the table.

"Just like you're willing to use this?"

Caleb slammed his coffee cup down, the brown liquid sloshing over the sides. "Where'd you get that?"

"Out of your bag."

"You're going through my things now? You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust your judgment." Bobby gestured to Caleb's untouched plate, his unshaven face. "For good reason."

Sam braced himself, glancing between the two older hunters as they glared at one another. This was new. Sam had no litmus test for this subject. Lies and deceit weren't their usual way, at least not amongst their inner ranks. Dean's deal to save his life had a snowball effect, threatening to bury them all under the mounting half-truths and dubiousness.

"You had no right. What I do or don't do is none of your fucking business."

"When you bring it into my house it becomes my business."

Caleb shoved away from the table, stood. "That's easy enough to fix." He looked at Sam. "Get your things, Sam. We're leaving."

Before Sam could make a move, mutter a protest at the order, Bobby leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. "Well, well, well, John Winchester rears his ugly head. Next thing you know, you'll be pulling rank, roaring about how you're The Knight of The Brotherhood and ordering me to step aside as you do something completely and totally stupid."

"Don't talk about him like that."

Sam whipped his gaze to Caleb, surprised at the fierceness in his voice. He tensed as the older psychic took a threatening step towards Bobby, unsure of what might happen next. Caleb was like John Winchester in some ways, but he lacked Dad's explosive temper unless he was backed into a corner. Sam believed Caleb was unwilling to do any damage that would jeopardize the family unit he depended on. Of course, Sam had also believed that Caleb wouldn't hit him, but had the bruises that said differently.

Bobby shook his head. "Junior, you're just damn set on a path of self destruction, aren't you?"

Caleb leaned forward, bracing himself on the table in front of Singer. "The only path I'm on, old man, is the one away from you, and your self-righteous platitudes." His hand shot out quickly, closing around the chain of Noah Seaver's charm. He straightened and started to move away, but Bobby's movement was just as quick.

Sam felt paralyzed by his uncertainty. He wasn't sure if he should intercede, wary to make matters worse. He watched as Bobby sprung from his chair, his finger's latching onto Caleb's wrist and preventing the psychic from leaving the room.

"Not so fast."

Caleb attempted to shake out off the older hunter's grip but didn't manage in time. They all watched in silence as the amulet dangling from Caleb's grasp mutated with his touch. Grime and rust gave way to luster, jewels shed their dull skin, glowing bright and ominous in the dimly lit kitchen.

Sam hadn't paid much attention to the necklace when he'd seen it around Caleb's neck at Jessup's, hadn't noticed that it looked like it did when Rose had possessed it. His mind made the quick leap to what that meant, and when he looked at Bobby, he knew the mechanic realized it as well.

Caleb made a noise similar to that of a trapped animal, snapping Sam from his thoughts. He swallowed, trying to bring some moisture back to his throat. "Bobby, let him go," he said, softly. Sam's chest tightened, his palms began to sweat. It was like watching his own worst nightmare come to life, only with Caleb playing the lead.

Singer didn't seem to hear him as he stared at the demonic trinket, watched it shimmer with a blasphemous beauty. "I'll be damned."

"No," Caleb choked, letting go of the necklace which clattered to the table. "That would be me."

They all gazed at the amulet as it morphed once more into its corroded state, seemingly aging centuries in seconds. Sam clenched his jaw, and willed his gaze to Bobby, anger overriding his uncertainty. Sam feared being evil almost as much as he feared losing Dean, understanding in that moment that it was a fear Caleb shared. He raised his voice this time, fueled by both the emotions he was wicking from the other psychic and his own selfish fears. "I said let him go."

Bobby did as Sam said and Caleb took a stumbling step back. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have come here after... I know how you feel. I understand what this means."

Sam slid his chair back as Bobby faced off with Caleb. "And tell me, what do you think this means?"

"That Elkins was right. That you took the wrong side when you crossed him to stand by Jim and Dad."

"You mean I should have helped Daniel kill an innocent kid?"

Sam looked at Bobby. He'd heard the story. Daniel Elkins, Knight of The Brotherhood at the time, had planned to kill Caleb, believing the thirteen-year-old was the last in a genetic line leading straight to the yellow-eyed demon. Sam had lived with the idea of being linked to that monster since Cold Oak and now considered what it was like for Caleb over the last twenty years. "Bobby…" he started, but the mechanic held up a hand to cut him off.

"Stay out of this, Sam. There're some things me and Junior need to get straight."

"There's nothing to straighten out. I'm not an innocent kid, never was." He gestured to the necklace. "You saw it. I'm a demon. The thing you hate most. The thing you've spent your whole life hunting. The kind of monster you would never invite into your house…"

Sam swallowed hard, trying to keep down the remnants of breakfast. Caleb was voicing his thoughts, the same ones that kept Sam from telling Dean about what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had shown him in Cold Oak. He wanted to spare Caleb, to offer some kind of reassurance, but at the same time feared exposing himself.

Bobby sighed, ran a hand over his beard. "Junior, I'm more devil than you." He picked up the necklace. "If it only took being a monster to bring out the bells and whistles on this toy, it would be lighting up like a high dollar Vegas stripper under stage lights right about now."

Sam gave Bobby credit- the man knew how to turn a phrase. He glanced to Caleb, hoping the sentiment of the words was at least getting through. He was quick to grasp the hope they offered. Maybe absolution would be in store for both of them. "He's right, man. We don't know what activates its power." There was always the possibility that neither of them were tainted. It was all a matter of perspective.

Caleb gave him an incredulous look. "I'd wager it would be a long shot to say it was good looks that powered it, Sam."

Sam offered him a weak smile, feeling unsteady and more than a little cowardly. "Would explain why Bobby's getting zilch."

"You want to give it a go, Stretch?" Bobby offered Sam the necklace. "Knock yourself out."

Sam quickly stepped back, his heart pounding against his chest at the idea. "No. I'm good. I've seen what that thing can do." He feared what he might be able to make it do.

Bobby turned his gaze back to Caleb. "And what exactly does it do? Besides bring out the worst in a body."

Caleb hesitated, ran a hand through his hair. "From my research, it seems to allow the person wearing it to summon and possess demons, or possibly leach the abilities of any number of supernatural beings. I haven't tried to harness a spirit or poltergeist."

Bobby's face reddened. "You've just been messing with demons?"

Caleb shot Sam a quick desperate look before facing Bobby once more. "I've been possessing them, yeah."

Bobby stepped forward and cuffed Caleb roughly on the head. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"It's working."

"Oh yeah," Bobby snorted. "It's working on putting you in an early grave, or maybe you're hoping to be sent down to the pit, along with your best buddy, Dean."

"I'm doing this to save Dean."

Sam moved closer, his brother's name bolstering his resolve. "He thinks he may be able to possess the demon that holds Dean's contract."

Bobby rounded on Sam. "And how the hell is that suppose to work?"

"I'll control his abilities. Whatever power he has, I can wield," Caleb said.

Bobby returned his gaze to Caleb. "And then what, Son? You're going to force him to tear up the papers? Tell me all the money your daddy paid for college wasn't a total waste. You're not seriously thinking that literally, are you?"

"If I can't change the deal or release Dean from it, then I can at least possess the bastard long enough for one of you to kill him."

"What?" Sam stepped forward, not having heard this part of the plan. "What do you mean we can kill him?"

"Shoot him with the Colt. Stab him with the Dragon's Talon. Whatever it takes to end the bastard before he ends Dean."

"You sonofabitch." Sam's anger flared, thoughts of his own welfare disappearing under the weight of the familiar rhetoric. "Now you do sound like Dad! To kill the demon we'd have to kill you too."

"No one is killing anyone!" Bobby roared, stepping between the boys. "No one is sacrificing themselves or throwing themselves down a pit. Do you hear me? Not one more person in this family is going to die. Just that damn demon." He looked from Caleb to Sam. "Do you two chuckleheads understand me?"

Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "Yes, sir."

Caleb glanced down at the floor, but parroted Sam's acquiescence.

Bobby reached out and wrapped his fingers in Caleb's jacket and Sam's shirt. He gave Caleb a hard shake. "And just so we're straight, Junior, this…" he cocked his neck towards the amulet on the table. "Doesn't change a blasted thing between us. I made the best choice all those years ago. Jim was right about you. You're a good man, an even better Knight. But if I catch you using this goddamn thing again, I will kick your ass so bad it will take a team of Doctor Daddy's best men to put you back together again. Understand me, Sport?"

"But we have to save Dean."

Bobby patted them both on the chest. "We have to save Dean from Rose. The rest we'll worry about when he's back where he belongs." To Sam's relief Bobby slipped the amulet into his jacket pocket. He was glad to have the responsibility of keeping Caleb from doing something stupid off his shoulders. "And we'll do it without anymore demon play," the mechanic added.

A knock on the door interrupted any reply. Lola and Sampson's barking came from the other room. Bobby and Caleb stared at Sam, who shrugged. "It's been my experience that Ruby doesn't exactly like to knock." He waved his hands. "She just appears."

"I'll get it." Bobby pointed to the table. "Finish your damn breakfast. I didn't slave over a stove at five in the morning for nothing."

Sam watched the mechanic go before facing Caleb. "You okay?"

Caleb took a deep breath and let it out slowly, deliberately. "We need to get that amulet back."

Sam shook his head at the man's single-minded stubbornness. It was like Dad with the damn Colt all over again. "And you're always saying the Winchesters are the most obstinate men you know."

"It may be our only chance to save Deuce."

At least Caleb wasn't hell bent on revenge. Sam softened his voice. "Look, man right now we need to concentrate on one rescue at a time. We have to save Dean from Rose."

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "That's what I'm talking about. Hasn't it crossed that brilliant mind of yours?"

Sam frowned. "What?"

"That maybe Rose wants the amulet. She pulled the same thing when she took John."

"Damn." Sam sat heavily in his chair, remembering the phone call when Meg had informed them she had Dad and wanted to trade him for the Colt. It all made a sick sort of sense. "Dean said Mac was worried about her not giving up on her insane plan to bring back her father." He looked up at Caleb. "He thought it was safe in The Hunter's Tomb."

Caleb had the decency to appear a little guilty. "It wasn't like I was going to let it out of my sight."

"We can't just give it to her." Sam recognized the look in Caleb's eyes, not unlike the one Dean had when Meg wanted to exchange the Colt for Dad. "You know that, right?"

"Did I mention that she's torturing Deuce?"

Sam glared at him, the insinuation that he wasn't putting his brother first singeing his frayed nerves. "Dean wouldn't want us to risk her getting her hands on that necklace. That's the last thing he would want."

"We both know Deuce is too damn noble for his own good."

Sam shook his head, reading his own interpretation into Caleb's words. He wanted to believe Caleb didn't ultimately hold him responsible for the deal, but in all honesty Sam couldn't help but to feel the other psychic's anger would be justified "Don't you mean he's too willing to sacrifice himself for all the wrong reasons?"

"Don't twist what I'm saying to throw confetti on that self-pity party you got going on, Sammy."

Just when they seemed to be on some kind of level playing field, Sam was tripped up by the same old stumbling block. One minute he wanted to shield Caleb, the next he wanted to clobber him. It was like a fucking roller coaster ride. He opened his mouth to use one of his brother's favorite anatomically impossible suggestions, but a familiar voice cut him off.

"Bacon. I knew I smelled bacon." Ethan Matthews breezed into Bobby's kitchen like a man on a mission. He passed Caleb and Sam with a nod, before heading straight for the stove.

"I have a theory he can smell burnt pork from at least a mile away." Sam stood as Elijah Matthews entered the room, Bobby trailing behind. "You'll have to forgive my brother's lack of manners. He hasn't eaten in the last hour."

"Five hours," Ethan mumbled around a mouthful of meat. "I tried to get you to stop at that dive in Sparta, but no, you had to make it here by dawn."

"We appreciate the sacrifice." Caleb folded his arms across his chest. "I'd hate to think that Dean being kidnapped deprived you a much needed meal, Columbo."

To Sam's surprise Ethan smiled and poured himself a cup of coffee. "You're welcome, Reaves." He grabbed a piece of toast and some more bacon before joining Sam at the table. "Looks like you've missed a few meals yourself."

"We got here as soon as we could," Elijah assured, casting his brother what Sam interpreted as a 'shut your mouth and eat' look before turning his blue gaze to him. "I'm sorry about Dean."

Sam had exchanged a few emails with the professor, feeling the need to at least keep in touch after Gideon's funeral. He appreciated the fact the brothers were willing to fight on their side, especially in light of what they had lost. It had been Bobby's idea to call in the two remaining members of the second-string Triad. They had contacts with other hunters not so enamored with Mackland, and they had sworn their loyalty to Dean, after Gideon's sacrifice. "Thanks. We're working on an angle to get him back as soon as possible."

"That's a good thing." Ethan wiped his hands on his jeans. "Hunters are getting nervous. They don't need any more bad news with the troops spread thin."

"I heard we lost a couple of men out in Abilene." Bobby reclaimed his seat at the table, keeping his eyes on Ethan. "Sanderson and Dabbs?"

Ethan nodded. "Silas is sure it was demons."

Sam had the urge to ask about Griffin, but resisted touching on the taboo. Silas had not been as adamant about his allegiance to Porter's faction, still maintaining ties to Ethan and Elijah. They knew Porter was involved with Caleb's ordeal with Agatha Hennings, but the division in The Brotherhood was in the far reaches of his mind until Dean's life was saved. Keeping the future Guardian alive for his own purely personal reasons was the only effort Sam could spare for his future role of The Scholar.

"They'll be more."

The unexpected comment caught all five hunters off guard. Ruby joined the conversation as if she had been standing among them all along. Sam wondered if she hadn't.

"Killing your kind is a sport." Ruby moved from the kitchen entrance, scooping up Caleb's untouched plate of food as she took the seat beside Sam like a welcomed guest. "The higher up in The Brotherhood, the more points earned." She winked at Sam before turning her gaze to Ethan. "Mind passing me the ketchup, hon?"

"Who the hell are you?" Ethan asked.

"I'm a friend of Sam's."

"No she's not." Sam was quick to disagree. He frowned at the blonde, before giving Ethan a plausible excuse the police detective might buy. "She's more like an informant."

Ethan raised a brow. "A snitch?" He tilted his head, looking her up and down before tossing her the ketchup. He shrugged. "Hey, I'm not above using a prostitute for information."

"She's a whore alright," Caleb said, striding to the table. "In bed with the lowest of criminal elements."

Sam winced, knowing Ruby's reaction would be swift. He watched as Ruby went about covering her eggs with the red condiment. He hated having to reveal to the full house he was dealing with demons, but it was going to be inevitable.

"Now, now, Caleb Reaves. I came here with an open mind, willing to work with you despite your family ties."

"I didn't realize demons had high standards." Caleb pulled the plate away from her.

"She's a demon?" Elijah asked, the incredulity in his voice hard to miss. He looked from Ruby to Sam. "And you work with her?"

Sam was surprised the revelation came from Caleb. He expected Ruby to frolic her demoness in front of the other hunters to embarrass Sam or worse, have him ostracized.

"At least I was human once, unlike those that are born to the calling." Ruby licked her fingers, cut her gaze to Caleb. "Believe it or not, there is a hierarchy."

"Shut up, Ruby." Sam didn't like her taunting Caleb, but was more worried the older psychic would finish her before they could make use of her. She was casting doubt upon them, weaving a spell of her own.

"What? His kind is the reason we're all in this mess together."

Sam laid a hand on Caleb's arm. "We called you here to talk about Dean. That's it."

Ruby looked around the room, feigning puzzlement. "I thought the place was missing a certain trashy kind of charm."

"You know he's been taken, bitch." Caleb growled. "I can sense it."

"Reading my mind?" Ruby clucked her tongue in mock disappointment. "How about now?"

Sam wasn't sure what the demon showed Caleb, but the hunter's face darkened and his hand was around Ruby's throat, his knife poised above her heart before Sam could make it out of his chair.

"Do it," Ruby gasped, a smile twisting her lips. "But kill me and lose any information I might have. Sam doesn't want that."

"Let her go." Sam didn't like it, but Ruby was right. They needed her alive for now. "She's no good to us dead."

Caleb released her, lowering his blade, but not surrendering it back to its sheath. "Don't push me."

Ruby rubbed her throat. "You have no sense of humor."

"You think this is funny?" Sam asked. He waited for her to look at him. "My brother is missing, possibly with a demon who has shown herself to have little regard for humans in general, but happens to especially loathe Dean."

Ruby frowned. "Someone not like Dean? Now that's mind-boggling."

"Shut up."

Ruby sighed. "Look. Rose has him." She cut her gaze to Caleb. "But I guess you already know that. I imagine keeping it a secret isn't exactly part of her plan."

"And what is her plan?" Bobby stepped forward, took the seat across the table from Ruby. "You seem to have all the answers."

"If she's taken something you want, I would wager you have something she wants."

"Stop dangling the damn carrot." Bobby snorted. "Contrary to popular belief a demon's head won't explode if they speak the truth."

Ruby shrugged. "She wants the family jewels back."

Ethan rested his elbows on the table. "Is that more double talk or are you talking about…"

"The amulet," Elijah surmised. He looked at Sam. "She's still after that amulet we found in Wyoming."

"She's determined to bring Daddy home." Ruby turned her eyes on Sam. "Some people won't realize when it's time to let a person go, even if that person is dragging them down."

"Where?" Caleb asked.

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"She's not," Elijah said. "At least not outright."

"She knows something," Bobby said.

"I've heard a few things through the grapevine. But there's a lot going on in demon land. Rose has slipped a few rungs on the company ladder since her father's passing. Nepotism doesn't work when your whole family's taken out by hunters, by one particular hunter."

"We know she has it in for Dean. " Sam understood all too well how Rose felt about his brother. Dean had ordered her exorcised, twice, and killed the yellow-eyed demon. The time he'd spent possessed by Meg had left an unforgettable impression. "That makes it all the more important that we find him as quickly as possible."

"Then I guess we should split up." Ruby stood. "I know two possible locations. Sam and I…"

Caleb shoved her back into the seat. "Sam's not going anywhere with you, bitch."

"Is it because you and Dean grew up without a mommy that you seem to toss that word around so easily, or are all hunters just naturally misogynistic?" She batted her heavily mascara coated eyelashes at them.

"She'll come with us." Elijah spoke up. Sam appreciated the rescue as it diverted Caleb's attention.

"She will?" Ethan choked on his coffee.

Eli nodded. "Sam's right. She could be useful."

"So are dynamite and hand grenades, bro but you don't see me walking around with them strapped to my ass." Ethan put his drink down.

"Ethan's right. I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Caleb said. "I think she should just tell us what she knows and crawl back under whatever rock she came from. I'm not putting anyone else in danger."

"And if your boys find Dean and Rose?" Ruby asked. "She's not stupid, she'll be expecting company. Is the future Knight willing to send troops into a slaughter?"

"We've killed our share of demons, sweetheart," Ethan defended. "And didn't need a bottom feeder sucking us off to get the job done." He cut his eyes to Sam. "No offense, Winchester."

Sam sighed. "None taken." He gestured to Ruby. "But she has a point There's no telling how many demons Rose may have working with her. Ruby's particular skills may turn the tide."

"And what about you all?" Ethan asked. "You could be facing the same situation."

"We'll be going in loaded."

Sam didn't miss the look Caleb gave Bobby, or the stubborn frown that crossed the mechanic's features as he interpreted what the psychic was suggesting. "I have a plan to even the playing field," Caleb said.

"I don't think I want to know." Ethan slid his chair back. "When it comes to you all, I've learned to embrace the don't ask, don't tell philosophy."

Sam was surprised the Matthews twins didn't turn tail and run the other way after what they had experienced while in their company. It was a testament to Jim's decision to choose them as possible Triad members.

"Smart boy," Bobby said. "That's why I expect you two to stay in contact and call us before busting in with guns blazing."

"I'll take good care of them." Ruby grinned. "As if they were Sam."

Sam grimaced in reaction. He knew he was being played, and didn't know why he allowed it. It was as if he was numb, separated from reacting to Ruby and the way she treated him. He hated to think he was allowing himself to be punished by tolerating her presence and promises.

Caleb stepped forward offering The Dragon's Talon to Ethan. "If she tries anything you take care of her as if she were any other skanky demon from the depths of Hell."

"No problem." Ethan stood, smiled at Sam. "I'm sure I can scrounge you up another trick if worse comes to worst."

"Just be careful." Sam might have been willing to work with Ruby, but he wasn't comfortable risking anyone else. "Dean would never forgive us if anyone else died in this mess."

Ethan's smile faded. "Dean will be fine. He has to be."

Sam looked at Elijah, who was watching his twin. If something happened to Dean, then Gideon's death would seem pointless. The idea of his best friend's noble sacrifice was making the loss bearable for Ethan. If that was taken away…Sam turned away when Elijah looked at him, slightly ashamed he had read the professor's thoughts. He and Caleb weren't the only ones afraid they might lose their brother.

_RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ_

"Are you alright, my boy?"

Dean looked up from the water, meeting Jim's concerned gaze. A building pressure behind his eyes made it hard to focus. He pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding instead of offering a verbal assurance.

Jim touched his face. "You never were a very accurate gauge when it came to your state of well-being."

Dean snorted. "Then why bother asking?" Caleb did the same thing. He would ask Dean point blank if he was okay, but then discount any assertion that Dean made about being fine.

"It's a hard habit to break I'm afraid." Jim leaned back giving him some space. "I suppose it is my hopeful nature that things are not as bad as they appear."

Dean dropped his hand. "Things are bad. Aren't they? What if she kills me?"

Jim gestured around them. "If she wanted to do that, then you would already be dead and we would not have had this time."

"Because I'd be in Hell."

"Yes."

"Then what does she want?"

"You tell me."

"I don't remember much after leaving the bar." Dean licked his lips. He was not unwilling to share some of the memories with Jim of moonlight reflecting on pale skin and auburn hair, the cold leather of the Impala's seats beneath them, the smell of lavender. He ran a hand over his mouth. Dean had thought he'd hit the jackpot. Rose had taken him for one hell of a ride before revealing herself. He shrugged. "Revenge?"

Jim raised a brow. "Again. I can think of better ways of accomplishing that."

Dean swallowed thickly. Rose knew him. As Meg she had possessed Sam, working with Ian to set them up. She'd enjoyed toying with him, using his feelings for his brother like a weapon. "She would have hurt Sam or Caleb."

"Demons do not often see things the way we do, but they tend to follow patterns."

Dean recalled what else he knew of Rose, and her alter ego Meg. "She kidnapped Dad when she wanted the Colt after she…" Dean hesitated.

"After she killed me." Jim patted his knee. "It's alright, my boy. I was there."

He nodded. "She went on a rampage to get his attention, murdering you…making us think she'd killed Caleb."

"Johnathan had few fears, even fewer weaknesses; but those closest to him were always a chink in his armor. I always knew that's why he held most people at bay. In that way you are very much like your father, my boy. You are willing to do anything to protect the ones you love."

Jim was right. "I was going to give the damn gun to her if it meant getting Dad back."

"John was a bargaining chip."

"Shit." Dean rubbed at his temples.

"Dean?"

"That's what I am." Dean should have realized it right away. He'd put the incident in Wyoming out of his mind; let the shadows of Gideon's death and the amulet fade into the background in light of more pressing matters such as his deal, saving Caleb and hunting the supernatural. He was trying to be normal with a death sentence hanging over his head. "She wants the amulet."

"The amulet?"

"Noah Seaver's amulet." Dean growled. "That bitch is going to try and trade me for the necklace."

The pastor grimaced. "That would explain some things."

"She's hurting me for a reason."

Jim finished his thoughts. "Caleb and Sam will sense your distress."

"Why use a telephone to reach out and touch someone when you have access to the psychic hotline."

Jim continued with his own train of thought. "She will of course offer you in exchange for the amulet."

Dean groaned, being swept along in the wake of Jim's discourse. "Damien won't think it through. He'll give in to what she wants."

"He's not unlike you in that respect. His feelings tend to guide him."

"I need to get out of here. I've got to do something."

"There is nothing you can do."

"I can't just float around out here in the pond with you while they face that bitch." Dean squeezed his eyes shut as another sharp pain lanced through his skull, threatening to steal his breath. "This is all my fault. I don't deserve to sit on the sidelines in some kind of self-created sanctuary."

"My boy, you're not hiding." Jim's hands found their way to his, covering his clenched fists. "Someone once said that contrary to its reputation as being a refuge, inaction is neither safe nor comfortable. When forced upon us, I'd say it is the most difficult of tasks demanded."

Dean forced his eyes open, met the understanding gaze. "If something happens to them…"

Jim tightened his grip. "The demon won't kill them."

Jim's voice held more than its typical hope and optimism. Dean pulled back. "What makes you say that?" He didn't give the pastor time to answer. "Is it because what Ian Hastings said was true? You banking on Sammy and Caleb having some supernatural connection to the other team? Is that why you picked them as Knight and Scholar? Did you stack the deck, bring in ringers?"

The thoughts had been in his head for a while now, especially since the confrontation with Hastings and Fox in Cosby. Ian had been so smug in revealing Jim Murphy as a manipulative mastermind bent on using whatever means possible to win the game between good and evil. The idea of it went against everything Dean knew about the preacher.

He couldn't help to recall how Gideon had seemed just as sure of his beliefs in Griffin Porter. The way Ethan and Elijah Mathews had been crushed by the revelations about the father they idolized and loved. Dean loved Jim, but all the secrets had left him scarred, unwilling to offer the same blind trust he'd given his father.

"My dear boy." Jim released him with a sad shake of his head. "I knew Daniel Elkins theories were more than just ramblings of a paranoid hunter, and I had my suspicions as to your brother's connection to it all after your mother's death. It was definitely a factor in my decision to choose them for the next Triad."

The revelation battered Dean, the betrayal adding its own form of torture to his psyche. It hurt more than the physical trauma he was having a harder and harder time fending off.

"Not for the reasons you think, Dean. It wasn't a cold tactical ploy to stack the odds in The Brotherhood's favor. Not completely. In the beginning, I saw the positions as brilliant cover, a shield that would protect your brother and Caleb from any recrimination their pasts might spur from either side. No hunter would try the things Elkins did against a Triad member if they valued their ring, and any demonic faction would hesitate in destroying any type of leverage they might believe in their favor."

"Did you not ever wonder why your father, why Mackland, would so willingly turn their own children over to such service? Do you really believe them capable of watching you three be put in jeopardy, if they did not believe in the end it would protect you all in a way they never could. That I never could?"

Dean had wondered at his father's motives, especially over the last year after finding out what had been kept from him and Sam. A part of him had worried it was a tradeoff of sorts, his father allowed to be privy to the world behind the curtain for the servitude of his children. But Jim's explanation absolved his father of such unthinkable distrust. It reinforced what Dean knew in his heart. John would do anything for his family, for his sons.

"You didn't know anything about us when we came to you. Why would you want to protect us?"

Jim appeared to understand his struggle. "I won't lie and say that I did not realize the opportunity I was being granted when within a matter of months both Caleb, you and Sam were practically delivered to my door. I had yet to choose any succeeding candidates, a job Julian stressed to me upon his deathbed seeing as how his Triad had failed miserably in that area. But it was only after I watched you three grow, as your connection to one another grew that I became more and more convinced of the course of action I was being called to." Jim gave a small smile. "And then there was the point in which I fell in love when the duty of The Guardian became blurred with the responsibilities of a family man. Emma and I had wanted children, understood because of her heart problem that natural ones would not be an option, but when you boys…" Jim eyed him, his blue gaze watery. "It seemed meant to be."

"Destiny?" Dean finally interrupted. He licked his dry lips. "You're saying this was Fate's fault?"

"I'm not shifting blame, my boy. I take responsibility for guiding you, Sam and Caleb onto this path, but never once have I regretted it. Never once did I believe I had made the wrong choice. Some of my desires might have been the selfish need of an old man to protect the only grandsons he would ever have, but as luck would have it, I was also quite blessed in discovering a Triad of the likes of which had never been seen."

Dean sighed. "You do realize your Knight is part demon, your Scholar has freaky abilities linked to the dark side, and your Guardian has a rendezvous in Hell in a few short months, right?"

Jim laughed, the sound of it chasing away the worst of Dean's agony. "I did not say it was a full proof plan."

"That why you have a second string team on the sidelines?"

Jim arched a brow. "It is the tradition to have a contingent strategy in place.

Dean snorted. "But you had complete faith in us that it would all work out."

"I did. Still do, in fact." Jim winked at him, nodding towards his fishing pole. "And it looks like I finally have a bite." The preacher picked up his pole. "I have a way of almost always being right."

It was the 'almost' that worried Dean. "But what about me?"

Jim stopped rolling in his reel. "There's nothing to do but wait here with me and…"

"No," Dean cut him off. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the Triad. I get why you picked Sammy and Caleb, but why me? Was I just an afterthought, convenient because I was Sam's brother?"

Jim slowly put the pole down as the line ran wild. "You have never been an afterthought. There are things you won't understand for years to come. You saved your brother and Caleb. If anyone was my ace in the hole, it was you."

"I don't understand."

"You give them purpose. Caleb would die to protect you. Sam's greatest fear is failing you." Jim looked more worried than Dean had seen him. "Then there are the countless attributes that make you perfect for the job, much more suited than I ever was. All of those things I counted on to pick the leader of The Triad."

"But what happens when I'm gone?"

Jim looked out at the water. "That is a very good question, my boy." He returned his gaze to Dean. "Very good question indeed."

RCJ


	4. Chapter 4

Edge of Winter Chapter 4

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews and comments. I love hearing what you all think of the story and where we may be going in the AU. Hopefully, we'll catch up to the season finale before the season premiere. Both Tidia and I have had crazy summers, but I promise we have been diligently plotting and writing. It basically takes us eight weeks to tell one story, episode, so I hope you all will hang in there with us. And remember, the points of view in this story allow us to see what 'CALEB' thinks of Sam at the time and what 'SAM' thinks of Caleb at that moment in time. It is of course one-sided and skewed, as all of our opinions can tend to be at times. Don't be too hard on them…or me. ;-) Again, thank you!

**SPECIAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: After receiving several private messages from concerned individuals, Tidia and I thought it was important we address an issue concerning the AU. I love that so many writers have chosen to write in this little off set world we have created. We have left it open for play, mostly because hey, it's not like we own any of this stuff anyway. Even Caleb and Joshua technically belong to Kripke, although we've given them our own distinct twists, in a slightly different setting. Tidia and I decided a long time ago that it would be difficult to incorporate the other writer's stories into our timeline and set up The Hunter's Tomb to host the official stories; Sensue does an excellent job of maintaining The Triad, hosting other author's writing and artwork there. I tremendously enjoy seeing what other people come up with, and do not want to inhibit anyone's voice or creativity, However, that said neither Tidia or I would ever write about or condone the rape or sexual assault of a child in one of our stories, or the rape of any of our characters within a work of fiction. As a therapist I understand the use of writing as a cathartic experience, a way to even work through issues and make sense of the world we live in. But there are so many terrible things in society, real monsters, I find it difficult to portray them graphically in fiction. Of course I can't control this, but within The Brotherhood AU I would like to have some say of their occurrence to the characters I have watched grow and become almost lifelike, at least to me, to Tidia. If you use The Brotherhood in future stories, Tidia and I would appreciate that the characters not suffer through the life-altering and horrific experiences of rape, or sexual assaults of any nature. Thank you-Rid **

RCJ

"Injuries too well remembered cannot heal."

--Benjamin R. Barber

"Do you think Ethan and Eli will be alright with Ruby?" Sam watched as Caleb stuffed supplies into his duffel. They were heading for Alabama along with Bobby to check out the other location Ruby had offered them. Ruby and the others were off to Chicago, Sam wondered at the choice of city, considering their run in with Meg and the Devas had taken place there.

"You tell me." Caleb glanced at him, continuing to pack. "She's your friend."

"She is not my friend," Sam snapped.

"Right. You're her bitch."

Sam stepped forward, readying to take another shot at Caleb. "I'm nobody's bitch."

"Maybe you should tell her that. I get the idea she thinks otherwise."

"That's her problem. I'm using her for one reason and one reason only." He hated explaining himself over and over again- to Caleb, to Dean. Ruby was willing to help, and he was fully aware she had another agenda, but if he could use her for his own gain, then so be it.

Caleb shook his head. "You think she can save Dean?"

"Yes." They needed as many plans as possible. Caleb had his, which was riskier than trusting Ruby.

"That's fucked up." Caleb zipped up his stuff, lugged it on his shoulder.

"And you possessing demons isn't?" This was more than a situation of pot calling the kettle black. This was counterintuitive. Sam was using the demon, Caleb was becoming one.

Caleb ignored Sam, walking past him. "I know what I'm doing."

Sam shot his hand out, grabbing Caleb's arm. "But I don't?"

"You don't always see things the way they are."

"I'm a psychic, too."

"Glad you acknowledge that." Caleb held his gaze.

Sam didn't reply. It was a bone of contention between them. Sam wasn't willing to access his abilities on the level Caleb thought he should. "Sorry I'm not super psychic like you. I haven't been doing this my whole life because some people thought I was better off not knowing what I was capable of. Excuse me if I'm a slow learner." It was also the fact that Sam theorized his abilities were not the same as Caleb's. The older hunter had been born with them in his lineage. Sam's were gained, by the demon marking him with demon blood.

"You've never been slow about anything. You spoke in short sentences at nine months, walked before your first birthday, and could read by the time you were four. Don't pretend you're lacking in talent just because you're afraid to take the training wheels off."

"I'm not afraid." It wasn't exactly a lie. Sam was terrified. "I'm being cautious." He had been at Cold Oak and saw the abilities of the others, and of Jake. He didn't want them, would never take his abilities to those levels.

Caleb shook his head. "You're hiding, and I hate to break it to you; it's not going to work." He waited in the archway of the door. "You can't escape yourself."

"So, you're saying I should embrace my 'inner demon', like you?" Sam followed, having quickly packed his weapons earlier. "Have you forgotten what Rose said? She wants us to accept our abilities." To what end, Sam could only imagine. He would not be_ flipping the switch. _

Caleb frowned. "There's nothing demonic about your abilities, damn it. How many times do I have to say that?"

Despite being pissed, Sam felt a wave of gratitude. Caleb still saw him as something better, gave him credit where he shouldn't have any. It would be almost as hard to tell him about the Yellow-Eyed Demon as it would be to tell Dean. "That doesn't make them any easier to accept, especially since Dean's not exactly on the bandwagon for me to move past novice."

"No one said it would be easy. But it could be worth it." He ran a hand through his hair. "And Deuce…he'll understand. We've all got to make adjustments."

Caleb was kidding himself. Sam knew his brother, too, knew Dean would be suspicious of abilities because they could be from something dark. Sam was always supposed to walk in the light, take the high road according to his brother who was willing to take the other path in his stead. "He will not understand you using Noah Seaver's necklace."

"I thought this was about you."

Sam felt his resolve falter. He missed Dean, needed his brother. "It shouldn't be this hard."

Caleb's face softened, and his posture lost its rigid disposition. "Look, Runt…" He dropped his bag, running his hands through his hair. "I know we've been going at it pretty good. I'm probably being an ass…and I'm sorry."

"You told me we need to be on the same page to help him get out of this mess. You're not at the top of your game, and messing with the amulet is the cause. . ." Sam hesitated when he saw Caleb flinch, then sway, shaking his head dog-like. "Caleb?"

The older psychic lifted his gaze, met Sam's gaze. "It's happening again."

"What?" Sam instinctively opened himself up, felt the surge of anxiety and dread from the older hunter. "Dean?" He welcomed any connection with his brother, but could only recognize an essence of his brother, no sense of Dean being threatened came through his link with Caleb. He let go, but was then permeated with a sense of dread for his brother. "Dean's hurt."

Caleb's breath hitched, he leaned forward bracing his hands against his knees. . "Oh God…"

"Caleb? Talk to me."

"Fire…" Caleb muttered. "There's a fire…He's burning…"

Panic surged through Sam. "Bobby!"

Singer barreled into the room. "What the hell is going on now?"

Sam guided Caleb to the bed. "I think he's connecting with Dean." Sam turned a helpless gaze to the mechanic. "But, it's not a vision." Sam knew it was happening at the present time, his reaction, although not as tangible as Caleb's was still there. He recognized on some intuitive level that it was his first experience as future Scholar. "Something very bad is happening to Dean."

"Sammy's right," Caleb snapped, shaking his head. "This isn't a fucking warning. It's happening now," he ground out.

"Shit." Bobby knelt beside them, realization dawning on his grizzled features. "Maxim used to get bad feelings. There was this one time-" Sam watched as the mechanic rested his hand on Caleb's thigh. "I was tracking a nest of vampires with him out in Denver; Julian and Victor got tangled up with some faeries."

"Faeries?" Sam gave the older hunter an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me?" He didn't even know they existed, however if vampires did, then he shouldn't be surprised about faeries. However, they didn't have time for a war story, they needed an answer.

"Hell no, I'm not kidding you." Bobby kept his hand where it was as Caleb looked up at him. "Sonsofbitches have a hell of a bite. Their saliva is like acid. Julian and Victor were in a world of hurt…nearly died." Bobby licked his lips. "He was five states away, but Maxim knew something was wrong."

Sam looked at Caleb and knew he was thinking the same thing. "What did Maxim do?"

"He found them. You being all special probably means you boys get more than just a bad feeling."

Sam didn't like the answer, loathed the idea of being helpless. Caleb obviously felt the same way. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists. "We need to be there now!"

Sam agreed, his dread growing monumentally. His ringing phone interrupted the urgency to act. He started to ignore it, but Bobby jutted his chin towards the dresser where the cell lay. "You better get it."

"But…"

"Coincidences are damn rare in our line of work. Don't you think?" He looked at Caleb. "I've got Junior."

Sam hadn't considered it could be connected. He was spurred into action after recognizing the few people who actually called him were either currently in the room with him or missing. Sam crossed the room in two long strides. His chest clenched when Dean's name winked at him from the caller ID.

"Dean?"

"_Not exactly." _

"Who is this?" He turned his gaze to Bobby and listened to the unfamiliar woman on the other line. She laughed her voice throaty but polished.

"_I forget that with a new face comes all new amenities. I still sound the same in my head, but it must get confusing for you." _

Sam tightened his grip on the phone. "Meg?"

"_Meg, Rose- Catherine's the latest. But what's in a name? It's who's inside that counts. I like Rose though, it suits me. A timeless beauty you know." _

"With lots of nasty thorns."

"_Now, now, Sam. Let's not be childish." _

"Where's my brother, bitch?"

"_Don't tell me you two have hit another bad patch. Think hard before running away again. The road is a dangerous place. No telling who you might meet out there on life's highway."_

"Don't play games. I know you have him."

"_You're accusing me of taking something that doesn't belong to me. That's rich coming from a grave robber like you." _

"If you hurt him…"

"_Come now. This is me you're talking to. Of course I'm hurting him." _

Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "I want to talk to him."

"_He's indisposed at the moment." _

"What does that mean?"

"_Insufferable agony. I am good at what I do." _

Sam's gaze went to Caleb. As Knight he was empathetic to The Guardian, to The Scholar too, but only in what Sam assumed were life-threatening situations. He wanted his brother back to him. "What do you want?"

"_I want my necklace back." _

"We don't have it."

"_Then get it. Pastor Jim's farm is on the way." _

"Where are you?"

"_As if you didn't know," Rose purred. "I'm aware I'm not the only demon in your life. You do have a thing for us bad girls, don't you?" _

Sam should not have been surprised his relationship with Ruby was common knowledge. "Alabama is a big place."

"_Follow the Dark Warrior west, young man. I'm sure you and Caleb can sniff out the trail from there." _

"Follow the Dark Warrior? What the hell does that mean?"

"_I have to keep some air of mystery." _

"Just leave Dean alone. You'll get what you want."

"_I'll get what I want and have my fun." _

"If you kill him…"

"_Don't get carried away. I won't deprive Dean his slow descent into the bowels of Hell. It's all about the journey you know. Watching you and Caleb comb through the proverbial haystack is right up there with American Idol. Maybe it will teach you both a new respect for where you come from." _

"Dean's not going to Hell."

"_Oh, he's already there, Baby. Trust me. He's already there." _

Rose cut the connection.

"Shit." Sam walked to the bed, threw the phone beside Caleb, who seemed more alert. "Caleb?" He reached out, but the psychic pulled away.

"Don't." Caleb held up a hand, wincing.

"Are you okay?"

Sam watched him draw in ragged breaths, rubbing a shaky hand across his mouth. "Just…just give me a minute."

"Are you still connecting with Dean?" Sam didn't feel anything, anymore, but thought it was from the distraction of speaking with Rose.

"No." Caleb exhaled heavily. "Whatever she was doing…she's stopped now."

"I hate this shit," Bobby growled. He stood, cutting his gaze to Sam. "I'm going to get something to drink."

Sam wasn't sure if the mechanic was planning the alcohol for Caleb or himself. Both of them looked like they needed it. "Okay." Sam wouldn't refuse one either, despite the early hour.

He took up Bobby's closer position as the older hunter left them alone. "Tell me what you felt."

"It wasn't like a vision. I didn't see anything. It was more like some freaky ass déjà-vu. It was real, but not actually happening to me…like a shadow."

"Or an echo," Sam said. He recalled Maxim's words from the journal. "Victor compared it to twins, how they could sense when their siblings were in trouble." He wasn't his brother's twin, but he did have psychic ability and he had sensed something, Victor had hypothesized that The Scholar, having a psychic ability, would also be able to sense mortal danger, too.

When Caleb gave him a confused look, Sam tried to explain. "I read his and Maxim's journals. I think Bobby was on the right track. This is some kind of Triad link."

"We're not The Triad yet."

"I thought about that, but things are different since Wyoming. Maybe Dean using the silver changed things, kind of like flipping a switch." There was that metaphor again. Sam grimaced. He hoped it was to a better end than his abilities. "One more thing we really aren't in control of."

" Deuce…" Caleb licked his lips. "He's…he's in bad shape, Sammy."

"You said something about a fire."

Caleb dug his palms into his eyes. "That's what it felt like…he was…" He slammed his fists against the mattress. "If she did that to him…I will tear her limb from limb."

Sam swallowed, finding it hard to keep his own emotions in check. "That was her on the phone. Rose." Sam wasn't sure how much Caleb was cognizant of.

Caleb looked up. "What did she say?"

"It's like we thought. She wants the amulet."

"Then we'll give it to her." The older hunter stood. "Where is she?"

"Caleb…"

"You don't know what he's going through…" Caleb's breath hitched. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. We're in this together. Remember? You told Dean we made a good team that we'd save him together." He didn't want to lie to his brother anymore. He also knew his brother was alive, in pain, but alive and being alive meant he could be saved.

Caleb shook his head. "I didn't expect this. I thought we could protect him. I've screwed up…focusing on the wrong things."

"Rose is the only one to blame."

"No. You were right back at Jessup's. I'm The Knight, or at least I will be. I should have known he was in danger. I let this happen."

"It doesn't work that way."

"If I hadn't been possessed…I would have known. God…I might have had a vision. I could have stopped this before…"

"You don't know that." Dean had always told him to resist the call of Monday morning quarterbacking. That advice had always served him well.

"Exactly. I don't know, never will know for sure. But I do know Dean's suffering and he's alone."

"And I know you would have done anything to stop that. We're on the same side. Dean's."

"About the amulet-you still trust me?" Caleb worked his way to a higher seated position.

"Of course I do." Sam offered the other psychic a faint grin. "You're Caleb. You draw dragons, bring pizza, and look out for Dean."

"I thought you stopped believing that somewhere around the third grade, right after you quit writing Santa Claus and leaving your teeth for the Tooth Fairy."

Sam frowned, humbled that Caleb remembered so much about him. "I never stopped believing that, man."

"I'd withhold judgment until you get a look at Dean."

He tried not to be scared by Caleb's sullenness, letting the fear bubble to surface would only result in him screaming in madness. "No matter what happens, I'm not going to hold you responsible." The blame rested surely on Rose.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Caleb ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I blame you. I've not exactly kept my head in the game over the years. My track record has some major screw ups."

"That's not true. You've always been on top of things, especially where Dean and I were concerned."

Caleb glanced up, met his gaze. "I remember a time when you didn't have that kind of faith in me, Runt."

Sam searched his memory, but gleaned the answer from Caleb's thoughts. It seemed neither of them could get New Mexico off their minds, unable to let the ghosts from their past go.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Santa Fe, New Mexico

November 2002

The flight from LA to Santa Fe had been painlessly short. They'd stayed in their mutual corners on the plane, Caleb looking over some preliminary specs for a new job for TriCorp, trying not to think about what Dean might be going through, while Sam kept his head in one of his precious books. First class afforded them the space and the silence was fine with Caleb, safer in front of so many witnesses.

Sam was the first to breach the tension-filled quiet of their rented sedan as they rolled along US-285. "So, you've been watching out for him?"

Caleb took his eyes off the road to glare at Sam. "That a question or an accusation?"

"I'm not pointing a finger; I just want to know how he's been."

"Phone calls are good for that." Caleb gripped the steering wheel, returning his gaze to the highway. "You'd be fucking amazed what you could pick up from a weekend visit."

"I didn't ask for a lecture."

"You don't always get what you ask for. Take for instance, I asked you to call your brother, oh about twenty or so times over the last six months."

"Caleb." Sam gave him a withering glance.

"Sam."

"Has he been okay?" The youngest Winchester fidgeted against the fabric interior.

"Define okay."

"You know what I mean."

"He's adjusted." It wasn't true. Dean had barely begun to come out of the self-imposed shell he'd wrapped himself in since Sam's departure. But Caleb wasn't about to betray a confidence.

"Meaning?"

Caleb cut his gaze to Sam. "Meaning you can ask him yourself when we find him."

Sam knocked the back of his hand against the passenger side window. "Why bother? I can guess things are about the same. As long as Dad's hell bent on the hunt nothing is going to change."

"You might be surprised."

"So things have gotten better? Dean's not been hurt since I left?"

Caleb almost laughed. "Hurt?" Dean had been devastated.

"That's what I thought. Things have stayed the same, haven't they?" Sam folded over the page he was looking at and closed the book he had been studying.

Caleb shook his head. They were on completely different pages. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Dean finally getting out from under Dad's thumb now that I'm gone."

Caleb was stunned. "You seriously thought your leaving would let Dean off the hook with John?" It made it a hundred times worse. Dean refused to lose one more person and was terrified to do something that might drive his father away. In his best friend's mind, he'd done something wrong to cause Sam to leave.

"Why not? You know I was one of the ways he controlled Dean, just like Dean is the way he controls you. If you would admit that, Dad would lose his ability to lord over every aspect of Dean's life. He could get away, just like I have and we wouldn't be out in the middle of New Mexico searching for him."

"Excuse me?" Caleb let his foot off the gas, turning his head to face Sam. "This is somehow my fault?"

"It's true and you know it. I've seen Dad manipulate you just like I watched him twist Dean. I refused to be a part of it any longer. I won't be the reason he's killed."

"So now your leaving is about keeping Dean safe and freeing him from John's tyranny? I thought it was about you having this 'normal' life you've been talking about off and on for the last six years."

"It's about both. I want a normal life, but I want it for Dean too," Sam countered. "I, for one, don't want him to end up dead."

"And I do?" Caleb pulled off into the emergency lane. "That's bullshit!" He shoved the car into park but didn't kill the engine. "You didn't leave for Dean's sake."

"How the hell do you know?"

He turned to face the younger man, oblivious to the cars racing past them, using all his restraint to keep his hands off Sam. "Because you would have returned his voicemails, or answered his letters, or the fucked up post cards he sent you. Goddamnit, if you cared about him so damn much, you would have come and seen him or better yet invited him to come see you, made him a part of this precious new world of yours."

Sam opened his mouth, closed it, trying again as some of the self-righteous indignation faded from his face. "I meant to…I did. It's just…"

"What?" Caleb asked, really wanting to know a reason, any reason to understand.

"Dad told me not to come back."

"And that's not letting John control you? What the fuck?" Caleb kept one hand on the seatbelt across his chest to tether his emotions before he struck at the younger man.

"He doesn't have any power over me anymore."

"You might be out of his house, Runt, but if you're willing to turn your back on your brother to prove a point to your old man, then you sure as hell are still under his thumb."

"I didn't turn my back on Dean!" Sam slammed his fist on the dashboard. "I walked away from hunting, from Dad. A key fact you keep disregarding."

"I'm not the one missing the point."

"What point? That I should have stayed right where I was just to keep Dean happy? How is that fair to me? And you have the nerve to imply I'm selfish? Pastor Jim and Mac both thought I should go, but then you've always played favorites when it came to Dean."

"What?" Caleb felt like his head was about to implode. "I never said you shouldn't have left or gone to college." He'd wanted Dean to go to college too, to play ball. But that wasn't in the cards. "I just have a fucking problem with the way you did it, and with the way you washed your hands of Dean. You don't walk away from your family."

"What gives you the right to pass judgment- to say what's right?" Sam said, hotly. "What do you know about family? You're not my brother; and whether you realize it or not, you're not Dean's."

He should have seen it coming, kept his guard up, but then Caleb had a blind spot when it came to the Winchesters. The look on his face must have betrayed him before he could put his mask in place because he watched regret fill Sam's dark eyes. He'd seen that look from John too many times.

"Caleb…"

"That the best you got?" The psychic shook his head. "It's a little weak. Your Dad has a better follow through."

"Don't compare me to him."

"Then stop acting like him." Caleb turned in his seat, gripping the steering wheel and gear shift. He didn't look at Sam as he took a deep calming breath. "Just so you know, I've done my best to keep him in one piece." Caleb had been hyper vigilant.

He glanced to the teen. "But there were times when he needed something besides a few stitches and butterfly bandages. He needed his brother…and as you pointed out, I couldn't do a damn thing about that."

"Look, man…" Sam tried again but Caleb cut him off.

"Get the directions out of my bag." He steered them back onto the highway. "We've wasted enough time without getting lost."

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

"Earth to Sam."

Sam blinked as Caleb waved his hand in front of his face. "You with me?"

"I've said and done some things I'm not proud of."

Caleb frowned, but remained silent. Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth, grounding himself in the present. His time at Stanford seemed so long ago in many respects, but could at times catch him off guard, coming back as fresh as a new wound.

In the beginning, there had been days when Sam felt like he'd been set down in the middle of nowhere with no compass or map to strategize. Without Dean or his father to tether him, he'd felt like an alien in a foreign world. Everything was brand new and frightening. Sam had felt it necessary to make a clean break, not to be influenced by his past or else he might be tempted to go crawling back to the familiar. Sure, he'd made mistakes, but that was to be expected. Most of the mishaps he didn't regret, except for the big ones, the biggest being he had inadvertently hurt Dean.

"I'd say that goes for both of us, but maybe we should focus on the things we can change," Caleb said.

Sam met the other psychic's gaze. "We need to get to Dean and I know where to start."

"Where?"

"Rose pretty much confirmed she was in Alabama; she said to follow the Dark Warrior west."

"Dark warrior? What the hell does that mean?"

Sam shrugged. "That's what I said."

"It's a river." Bobby entered the room, silver flask and map in hand. He tossed the canteen to Caleb and spread the map on the bed. "I thought we might need this."

"What part of Alabama?" Caleb took a long pull from the flask and handed it off to Sam. "I don't remember any river with that name."

"It's called the Black Warrior River." Bobby placed his finger on the squiggly blue line. "If you follow it west it flows right through Tuscaloosa."

"What's in Tuscaloosa?" Sam handed the canteen back to Caleb, who took another drink.

"Not much," Bobby replied.

"University of Alabama is close by," Caleb said. "Huntsville is just down the road. I've been to a few Iron Bowls there." Caleb looked at Sam, offering the flask once more.

Bobby scratched his beard. "Demons rarely do something without a damn good reason."

"What about the latest body she snatched?" Sam asked. "She mentioned the name Catherine. Maybe she has ties there. Rose could be using her house or other resources."

"That's not bad, Stretch." Bobby cut his gaze to Caleb. "Call Ethan, have him pull some strings to check for missing persons in the surrounding areas."

"Should we have him and Eli back off the other trail to Chicago?"

"Not yet." Bobby picked up the map, folding it. "I'd rather not put all of our eggs in one basket just yet. Rosie being accommodating only spells trouble in my book."

"She'll be waiting for us."

"Then we should have a surprise in store for her," Caleb said.

Sam bit back on his groan. He knew where the other psychic was going. He watched as Bobby slid the map into his jacket before bringing his eyes to Caleb's.

"What do you have in mind, Junior?"

"We know she'll have other demons in the area. Look what Sam and Dean encountered when they tried a sneak attack to get Johnny back."

"Yeah."

"We'll be outnumbered."

"We have the Colt," Sam pointed out. It had been locked in the trunk of the Impala when Dean disappeared.

"I don't think she's going to let us in armed, Runt."

"Maybe she doesn't know Ruby fixed it for us."

"Just like Ruby didn't know where she was."

Bobby held up his hands to interrupt the two younger hunters. "What are you suggesting? Just spit it out."

"I'm thinking it takes a demon to beat a demon."

"Oh hell no!" Bobby shook his head emphatically. "Are you deaf, Junior? Read my lips. No way are you using that damn necklace."

"Bobby, it's our best shot and you know it. I can possess an upper level, use their abilities to get us in and surprise the hell out of Rose. It's a perfect Trojan Horse move. It'll work. Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust."

"It's worth the risk for Dean. I'm willing to do what it takes." Caleb turned to Sam, pulling him unwillingly into the argument. "Sam will back me up. He can use his abilities to keep tabs on me. He'll know if I lose control."

"But…" Sam started only to have Bobby cut his protests off.

"And if that happens?" Bobby demanded.

Caleb held up the flask. "Fill one of these full of holy water, or use another one of your tricks to pull me back. I can take it."

Bobby jerked his hat off, twisting the bill. "This isn't just about you."

"No. It's about Dean. This is the one sure way we can get to him."

"No, goddamnit!" Bobby shouted, setting his hat back on his head, pulling the rim low. "Just…no. That's final." The mechanic looked to Sam, not giving Caleb time to rebut. "See if you can knock some sense into him why I pack the rest of our things in the Impala."

He was gone before either boy could respond. "Stupid…stubborn sonofabitch," Caleb growled. "He's being an ass about this."

"He's trying to protect you," Sam said.

"From what?"

"Yourself."

"I know what I'm doing. For once, I am completely clear on what needs to be done."

"Dude, when it comes to Dean you're never completely clear."

"What the hell? Didn't you just tell me I was always on my A-game? Make up your mind."

"It's not the same." Sam tried to explain. "Your actions are always true; it's your judgment that can get a little askew. I'm not pointing fingers; it's no different for me or Dean."

Caleb twisted the ring around his finger. "I have to do this. And you have to help me."

"What if we're giving Rose exactly what she wants?"

"If it gets Dean back in one piece, I could really give a shit." Caleb met his gaze. "How about you?"

Sam knew his role was to be logical, to see the bigger picture. It was the job of The Scholar. But he had another job, a role that was even more important. One he couldn't or wouldn't shirk again. Sam wouldn't abandon his brother, no matter the cost. "What are we going to do?"

Caleb held up Bobby's flask, sloshed the remaining whiskey with a grin. "Alabama's a long drive. What do you say we give our favorite mechanic a well-deserved nap?"

Sam took the canteen, understanding the plan. More deception they would have to deal with. He hated how the secrecy and plotting snowballed. It was hard to tell which side they were on, or even if there were defined sides any longer. "I draw the line at frisking him."

Caleb snorted. "So much for teamwork."

"And just so you know, I still don't think this is a good idea. I'm only going along with it for one reason."

"Dean."

"We're both on his side." That was the only thing Sam was clear on.

Caleb reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Only side that matters."

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Dean used his thumb to spin the silver ring around his finger wishing it were a compass showing him the way out. "Do you think that's why the demon made the deal?"

Jim looked up from unhooking his latest catch, his face displaying his confusion. "What?"

Dean studied his own line bobbing in the water before facing the pastor. "You said I was your ace in the hole."

Jim hung his arm over the side, releasing the small blue gill back into the water. "You always were one to turn something over and over in your mind. Samuel may have talked more, but you definitely had him beat in the contemplation department."

"I mean it all makes a sick kind of sense. I've racked my brain figuring out why, if this new big bad demon wanted Sammy's head on a platter so badly, would he make a deal with me to bring Sammy back?" Dean leaned forward. "Crazy right? Sam was dead. I probably would have bought the farm sooner than later. He had us right where he wanted us…unless the demon who made the deal didn't want Sam dead at all, but actually wanted him back in the game and me out of the way."

"You're theorizing that the demon who made the deal, or who was controlling it from behind the scenes wants Sam in a position of power without you there as an influence."

Dean nodded. "And maybe Caleb, too." He thought back to the time in Wyoming when Rose had taunted him. She'd called his brother The Boy King, Caleb, The Dark Knight, painting Dean to be the Jester. "Rose said she wouldn't dream of taking out the Triad, because it was a first…demon driven."

Jim held Dean's gaze. "You do realize you're suggesting the same thing that Griffin Porter and his constituents postulated."

"Mackland said Griffin was wicked smart."

Jim put his pole down, clasped his hands together. "Do you believe your brother and Caleb are demonic, capable of such atrocities?"

"No." Dean bit his lip. "But I know that if you have a big enough weakness, you can be driven to do almost anything. I won't be the reason they're pushed over the edge. It can't go down like that."

"Just like you were pushed over the edge by Sam's death, driven to give your soul for your brother?"

"It was my choice to give my life for Sam."

"And if you could go back?"

"I'd do the same thing again."

Jim sighed. "Then I can see why you're worried."

"That's not an answer, Jim."

"I don't have the answer you're looking for, my boy. If I did I would have been much more successful in defending my choice of Triad over the years, more apt in keeping you three from harm." He continued before Dean could reply. "But I will give you something else to ponder. What if having potentially one of the strongest Guardians in history at their disposal was also an enticement? What if their machinations extend beyond what we see on the surface?"

"Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"No." Jim shook his head. "I'm trying to help you see past that barrier that keeps you from realizing your own worth. The most common way people lose their power is to deny that they have any. It is time you stepped past all that you've known. _Your_ life may not only be about saving your brother and Caleb, but protecting The Brotherhood, and in turn saving the world."

"Wow." Dean leaned back. "And Mac thought Dad weighted me down with taking care of Sammy."

"I'm not attempting to add to your burden, my boy, only point out what already is, what I saw the first time I met you."

"So let's say I buy into this gig of The Guardian, what good does it do me now? If I'm in Hell, then the post is pretty much empty. I don't think I'm going to have access to much water in the pit."

Jim tapped his head, then gestured around them. "True magic is inside us." He dipped his hands into the lake gathering water between his cupped palms. The preacher held Dean's gaze. "The water is a gift." Jim opened his hands to reveal a shimmering silver dragon with spread wings. He offered it to Dean. "You only need to accept it, Athewm."

Dean took the silver figure, turned it over in his palm. "You realize I have no idea what you're talking about, Merlin."

Jim laughed. "Apparently you know more than you think you do. You are here with me after all." The former Guardian pointed a finger at him. "And you accessed the tomb of weapons. That was no small feat."

"But this power…" Dean tightened his fingers around the dragon. "What if they twist it, use it for their own purposes?"

"I have no doubt they will try. Even good men have fallen into that trap."

"Griffin?"

"And others like him."

"Then maybe it's better I don't have it. Can't you take it back?" Dean offered him the dragon. "Give it to someone else without a contract to serve."

Jim smiled, sadly. "I can't take what I didn't give, Son."

"Then we could all be in big trouble because I could end up being the biggest joke of all, just like Rose said."

"Or you could be the one to save the entire Kingdom."

RCJ


	5. Chapter 5

Edge of Winter

Chapter 5

Beta: Tidia

A/N: The Taos hum is a real phenomena, and very interesting to read about. I'm sure I do not do the lovely art colony justice. It looks incredible. However, I have taken great creative liberty with the facts and places in this story to bend it to my own nefarious purposes which include a plot. ;-) Thank you to those who took the time to review the previous chapter, and all those still reading. As always thanks to Tidia for her help and encouragement.

"_Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,_

_Therefore, we are saved by hope._

_Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;_

_Therefore, we are saved by faith._

_Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone._

_Therefore, we are saved by love._

_No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; _

_Therefore we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness." _

RCJ

"Doctor Catherine Blake." Sam flashed Caleb a look as he balanced his cell phone between ear and shoulder, digging for paper to write down the name Ethan had just given him. It hadn't taken the police detective long to get the information they needed. They had only been on the road for a couple of hours. "And you're sure she's from Tuscaloosa?"

He continued to listen to Ethan recant the information from his contacts. "Interesting."

Caleb, driving with one hand and using the other to finish a sandwich they'd picked up at the last gas station, took his eyes off the road to shoot him a worried glance. "What?"

"Can you email me the picture?" Sam ignored the other psychic and jotted down an address. "It sounds like the woman Dean was with, but I'd like to be sure. Yeah, he has great taste in women." Sam put the pen down and pinched the bridge of his nose as Ethan voiced his own fears. "That doesn't sound good. Sure thing. We'll call you when we get there." Sam glanced at Caleb. "You guys, too." He cut the connection.

"What?" Caleb demanded, tossing his crumpled sandwich wrapper into the backseat where Bobby was snoring loudly, having succumbed to the mickey they slipped in his favorite flask. "What? You don't think Ethan's on the right track with this missing person? "

Sam wished that were the case. "No. It's all starting to fit together. The missing woman, Doctor Catherine Blake is from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She's a professor at the University."

"But that's good news, right? At least we have an address, a confirmation that Rose is most likely on the level about her location." Caleb pointed to the notes Sam had taken. "She's probably close by."

"Did you know the University of Alabama has a top notch chemical and biological engineering program?"

"Not really." Caleb kept his gaze on the road, but Sam noticed his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "And I'm not seeing the relevance at the moment, Runt."

"Catherine Blake is a chair in that department. Apparently, she's one of the country's top chemists. Ethan says she's the go to girl when it comes to the new frontier of biological and chemical weaponry-new interrogation methods. Her disappearance has caused quite a stir." Sam wiped his mouth, sickened by the scenarios his mind was inventing.

"Like super-charged truth serum and shit?" Caleb looked at him. "That can't be good."

"I know." Sam rested his head against the seat. "But maybe it has nothing to do with anything. Maybe Rose randomly picked this woman believing Dean would like her looks." It was wishful thinking on his part and Sam knew it, but the alternative wasn't something he wanted to focus on.

Caleb must have agreed because he favored Sam with a doubtful look. "If that were the case Demon-girl could have visited any Hooters nearby and body-snatched some uncomplicated bait. Unlike you, Deuce has never been one to use his conversation skills for foreplay."

"True." Sam rubbed his eyes. His brother was wicked smart, but could give a shit if the women he hooked up with knew the difference between chicken and tuna. Cup size was far more important than IQ. "It had to be part of her plan. She wouldn't risk a high-profile identity for nothing. Ethan said the cops were crawling all over the area."

"But to what fucking end?" Caleb growled. "She can read minds, why would she need drugs? Why risk more human involvement?"

"You can't read Dean's mind anymore, at least not about anything Guardian related," Sam pointed out. "Maybe she tried in Wyoming and knew Dean was protected."

"Still..." Caleb exhaled heavily. "It seems like she went to a lot of unnecessary trouble."

"Let's say she couldn't get a reading on Dean. And we both know he's not going to just up and volunteer the information. Maybe she thought she could get the amulet without a risk, like involving us."

Caleb nodded. "But when she found out it was at the farm, she knew she'd have to bring us in anyway because she can't lay hands on it."

"There's another reason we're skating around," Sam said, his mind twisting and turning to make the connections.

Caleb took his eyes from the road again, long enough to meet Sam's gaze. "What?"

"She wanted to hurt him without actually killing him."

"I've always loved your optimism, Dr. Doom."

"It's something we have to consider. This is Meg…or Rose. Like most demons, she enjoys her job, but has orders not to kill Dean. Torture would serve two purposes." Sam had witnessed what The Yellow-eyed Demon had done to his brother when it possessed their father. He had no doubt Dean would have died if Dad hadn't intervened.

Caleb changed lanes as they approached a busy exit. "More of your big conspiracy theory?"

"I think we need to look at every angle." Sam was tired of being played for the fool. He realized they were dealing with entities methodically evil.

"Right." Caleb glanced at Sam again. "So what does the bigger picture tell you?"

"The same thing Dad used to tell us. We need to know our facts and then get in and out as quickly as possible to minimize collateral damage." His brother was not collateral damage. He was their mission.

"We have a name and an address. Even if she is laying low from the cops, we have a starting point. Maybe one of us can sense him. We know what the bitch wants. That's more intel than we're used to."

Sam folded the paper holding his notes, memories pulling at him once again. "It's more than what we had in New Mexico."

"Exactly," Caleb said. "And look how that turned out."

Sam knew Caleb was referring to the fact they had found Dean in time, but Sam's nature to err on the side of logic was taunting him about luck and random chance, both of which were factors in his brother's rescue then. They couldn't afford to put stock in having providence favor them kindly. As Dean was overly fond of pointing out in a way that only he could, Fate was having a hell of a time making them her bitch. "It wasn't our most shining moment, man. I believe Bobby summed it up best when he said, 'even a blind chicken eventually finds a kernel of corn."

"Bobby's a pessimist." Caleb glanced in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road once more. "His shot glass is always half empty. Jim would have told us to have faith."

"Jim's cup was always overflowing." Sam loved the pastor fiercely, but recognized the man's outlook wasn't always the most realistic.

"What choice do we have? Sporting a piss poor attitude or wearing rose colored glasses we're finding Deuce and bringing him home. Nothing's going to change that outcome."

Caleb was almost as steadfast as Jim in his faith in good triumphing over evil. "I'm only pointing out that Rose will be anticipating our next move. She's put a lot of thought into this. This calls for more than a 'seat of the pants' kind of rescue."

"You think that's all I'm capable of?"

Sam sighed. He seemed unable to say the right thing, in the right way without causing more friction. It wasn't like Caleb to be overly sensitive to criticism; the man had worked with John Winchester for too many years to take it personally. Sam wasn't sure to chalk it up to the demon possessing or the guilt Caleb was feeling over Dean's disappearance. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I just don't want you to go off half-cocked, thinking that the necklace is the only ace up the sleeve you need. In case you've forgotten, if you're mortally wounded while you're possessed you may stay animated as long as the demon hangs around, but you're still dead in the end. That amulet doesn't make you immortal."

"I'm not an idiot, Sam."

"No. But you don't always use your head when it comes to Dean."

"And you do?" Caleb shot him a look. "You can play calm and cool all you want, Scholar Boy, but I can feel your fear from a mile away. You're just as fucking terrified as I am."

"That's my point," Sam said. "Fear is our greatest enemy because it's the one feeling humans have that all things supernatural don't. They count on it to keep us in line, to keep us from going into the dark places where they rule. It gives them a power over us, a power we can't afford to give away."

Caleb snorted. "Did Yoda tell you that, Luke?"

"No. Dad did."

Caleb grinned with a shake of his head. "Damn, I miss Johnny's pep talks."

He missed their dad, and often wondered what would have happened with the three Winchesters together fighting evil, but at the time it didn't look like Dean would survive and John had made a parent's choice. He understood their father's decision, but now they would never know. "I've grown to appreciate their wisdom in retrospect."

"They were definitely hard to swallow in the moment with your heart trying to pound out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears, and that sick to your stomach, about to pass out kind of feeling going on," Caleb said.

Sam laughed, latching on to the shared memory. "And here I thought you and Dean swallowed his words of wisdom mindlessly."

Caleb's smile faded and Sam worried for a moment he had once again stepped on a landmine. But then Caleb took his eyes off the road long enough to meet his gaze and Sam didn't see any of the anger or hostility he had encountered the last two days, only a shared weariness. "I loved your old man, Sammy. But it was far from being blind. I saw _everything_ he did…witnessed every mistake he made with you and Dean."

"But you still defended him." It was the one thing Sam couldn't wrap his mind around. His brother and Caleb both were stalwart in their dedication to John Winchester. "You stuck around when you could have gotten out."

"For all his faults, John accepted me completely. For all he knew about me, he never once treated me differently. You can understand what that meant. Right?"

Sam swallowed hard. His father obviously knew about him, too, knew what Sam was capable of, but loved him and protected him in spite of the secret he kept hidden for twenty-three years. John Winchester had been a good man. "Yeah, I think I do."

Caleb glanced at him again. "More importantly he helped Mac and Jim give me the one thing I wanted more than anything-a family. I could never walk away from that, or risk losing it. I'd do anything to protect it."

The older hunter was referring to Dean and him. Sam knew all too how John used his protégé's devotion to his sons against him. He realized in that moment that Caleb and his brother were more alike than in the outward ways he'd always thought. Their connection went beyond a lewd sense of humor, an obsession for beautiful women, and a love for all things hunting related. They needed a home and not the kind with four walls. They needed a sense of belonging. They longed for a family above all else, and would sacrifice anything to have it.

Along with that epiphany came an even greater realization. Sam was like them. He needed his brother and missed his father. There was nothing he wanted more than to have his family back, whole again, hunting or not. Sam would have given anything to go back in time to tell his younger self to smarten up. Dreams could come true, and still not bring a man what he sought. In fact, some dreams could easily lead to one big nightmare. If he had listened and paid attention to Caleb all those years ago in New Mexico, he might have spared himself and those he loved a whole hell of a lot of pain.

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Taos, New Mexico

November, 2002

"Dream catchers work, you know." Caleb watched as Sam ran his finger over one of the ornate wooden circles hanging from the front porch of The Dream Catcher Inn. "If your dream is to be gay." They hadn't spoken much the last leg of their journey, both of them still caught up in the tension they couldn't seem to shake. Although Caleb was still brooding over Sam's verbal sucker punch, he was tired of the silence and would be the first to give in.

"Ironic," Sam replied. "You making fun of a legend when our whole lives have revolved around myths nobody really believes in."

"I have a selective belief system." Caleb took a seat in one of the wicker rockers, making himself comfortable to wait for Celeste's return. He and Sam had arrived at the bed and breakfast about a half an hour earlier to find a sign hung on the door proclaiming the proprietor would be back at one. "Besides, it would take more than some feathers, beads, and string to stop my bad dreams."

Sam turned, leaning against the railing. "You've tried it?"

Caleb gazed out over the picturesque view of downtown Taos that the inn provided. He'd had little time to admire the architecture on their way in, too focused on finding Celeste's place. "I've tried lots of things, Runt."

"Dean made me one once."

He looked at Sam, who had diverted his attention to the landscape. Caleb swallowed the lump that sprung to his throat at the mention of his best friend. "Did it work?"

"I don't remember. Dean was willing to try anything to stop my nightmares after I found out about what Dad really did for a living and the truth about Mom." Sam shrugged. "I lost it in one of Dad's rushed moves."

"I remember that Christmas he told you about your mom and the hunting. He called me afterward, a fucking mess. Deuce thought he'd screwed you up for life; so scared he'd done the wrong thing." Caleb stood, unable to keep his energy contained in one space. He made his way to Sam's side, touching a simplistic catcher done with black leather and white feathers. "The web catches the evil, trapping it and the good travels through the hole, down the feathers and into the dreams of the person beneath it. Right?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "That's one legend. Others spin it a little differently, but the main point is that it keeps the bad things away."

"I can see why Dean made you one." Caleb met his gaze, recognizing his own worry in Sam's dark eyes. He pushed aside the lingering feelings of their argument before. "I wish it worked. I'd make Deuce a few hundred or so." Caleb felt he fell short that Christmas so long ago, unable to protect either brother from the inevitable. His failures carried over to the present.

"Me too." They had reached their safe ground.

The bark of a dog had both of them looking up and out to the stone path that led to the hotel. A smiling Golden Retriever and an older woman approached. "Don't be afraid, she won't bite," the woman called out.

Caleb and Sam shared a knowing grin as the two made their way up the stairs. The dog looked like Atticus Finch, and the only things Atticus was ever a threat to was unsuspecting bunnies and stuffed squirrels. "Unless you're salesmen or those door to door religious types then all bets are off," the woman said.

Caleb kept his eyes on the blonde as Sam bent to pet her dog, who had threaded its shaggy body between them, sniffing to investigate their scents.

"Are you Celeste Fair?"

"I am. And who might you be?"

Caleb studied the older woman with surprise. She was not what he had been expecting. Her silvery blond hair was cropped short framing her angular face. The gray tee proclaiming her a proud grandma of three dwarfed her petite form, hanging to the knees of her well-worn jeans, which billowed out at her ankles, nearly covering her sandaled feet. He watched as her light blue gaze narrowed, wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes as her hand went to the simple strand of turquoise at her throat. It was a nervous gesture. She was waiting for an answer.

"I'm Sam Winchester."

Sam's voice startled him out of his reverie. The youngest Winchester threw him a puzzled look before offering Celeste his hand. "I believe you were expecting us."

"Oh my God." Celeste shook Sam's hand, but her eyes were glued to Caleb. "You're Amelia's son."

She released Sam's hand and covered her mouth, with a slight shake of her head. "I should have known you right away. The eyes…you have her eyes. And you're gorgeous." She laughed. "I teased your mother endlessly about tempting fate by marrying your father. I said it was just the kind of joke God would enjoy, giving two insanely attractive people a hideous child."

When Caleb didn't speak right away, Sam saved him again. "It came out in his personality. He's a complete ogre on the inside."

Celeste laughed. "With the way Bird gushes and brags, I doubt that." She tilted her head. "Although, he does seem the quiet type while Amelia and Isaac were both talkers."

"I'm sorry." Caleb cleared his throat, offering his hand. It was strange to hear his parent's names spoken out loud, especially in familiar cadence. "You just caught me off guard."

"It's no wonder. I must look a mess." The woman gestured to her attire before taking his hand in hers, clasping her other over his. "I was expecting you later in the day, but this is a pleasant surprise."

"We managed an earlier flight. And you look fine, it's just…" Caleb shook his head, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. The change that had him stunned was that Celeste was not twenty-six, no longer in the prime of her youth. "I didn't expect you to be quite so old."

"Caleb," Sam admonished.

Celeste laughed again. "I'm beginning to believe you about that mean streak."

"I…I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Caleb said, feeling horrible. He had insulted his mother's friend. "It's just…"

"It's okay." Celeste patted his hand once more then released him with an understanding smile. "It's the name. Celestial Skye Fair conjures the image of a youthful pixie. My parents were hippies," she explained. "I named all my boys after notorious right-wing Republicans for revenge."

"I bet that showed them," Sam said.

"You know it did."

Caleb cleared his throat, hoping to reclaim some ground. Dean was waiting for them. "If you don't mind, we'd like to look at Dean's room, and speak to you about the last day you saw him."

"Now Dean is a charmer," Celeste said with a quick glance to Sam. "You still haven't heard from him?"

"No." Caleb shook his head. "And it's not like him to stay out of touch."

"His things are still here. I'll take you all up and we can talk."

"That would be great. Thank you."

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," Celeste said. "It means a lot that you and your friends would come all this way to help when you don't even know me."

"My mom knew you. That's reason enough."

Celeste smiled again, snapping her fingers for the Golden Retriever to follow. "Come on, Daisy, let's get these men what they need."

Caleb started to follow but Sam stopped him with a tug on his sleeve.

"What is wrong with you?" he hissed.

"Nothing. Like I said, she just caught me off guard." Caleb hadn't had time to think of meeting Celeste, his thoughts focused on finding Dean. The encounter had shaken him.

"I know it doesn't have the same effect when we use the expression; but you look like you've seen a ghost."

As usual, Sam was annoyingly observant and obviously unwilling to drop the subject. The kid was tenacious. Caleb ran a hand through his hair, opting to tell enough to get Sam off his back. "Seeing her reminded me of my mom, okay. I guess I have this picture of her permanently etched in my mind and in it she's closer to your age than Celeste's. It hit me she'll never get old, have grandchildren." He felt foolish for saying more than he meant to and guilty for even thinking about it when Dean was missing. He turned to go into the house. "Forget I said anything. It's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid."

Caleb huffed, appreciating the sincere look in Sam's eyes, reminding him of a younger Sammy before the war with John. He couldn't resist the chance to fall back to old hat. "Yeah. But you're practically a girl." Feeling braver and needing the levity, he reached out and shoved Sam the way he used to before the kid left for Stanford. "If you remember, the John Winchester pep talk goes…_Suck it up, Reaves we've got a fucking job to do_."

"Laugh now," Sam said. "But wait until I tell Dean how the golden tongued rogue bumbled his way through that little conversation with the fair Celeste. You'll drop a few rungs on his Smooth Operator pedestal."

Caleb was grateful Sam agreed to play along. He missed the old Sammy more than he was willing to admit. For the first time since arriving to Stanford, he felt at ease around the younger man. "Deuce worships me. Nothing you could say would change that."

"That's not saying much." Sam snorted. "It's hard to fall out of his good graces. Look at Dad."

And just like that the reprieve came to an abrupt halt. Even though Sam's smile was still in place something about the tone of his voice had Caleb's defenses on the rise. "Guess that's a lucky break for all of us then." Caleb and John weren't the only ones who were in need of absolution.

If Sam noticed the implication or change in tension level he didn't let on, but he did wisely change the subject. "We should go look at Dean's room."

Caleb gestured to the door. "After you."

As they made the ascent up the iron spiral staircase to the suite Celeste had reserved for Dean and Caleb's stay, the inn keeper told them about her experiences with the Taos hum. It was the same information she relayed to Dean two days before.

"Have you ever experienced anything like the noise before moving here?" Sam asked.

"No." Celeste gestured to the right hallway as they crested the stairs. "And when I leave Taos it goes away."

"Is it consistent when you're here?" Caleb asked.

"Do you mean am I hearing it at this moment?" Celeste fumbled with the keys at her side.

"Yeah."

She nodded. "It's more tolerable in town." She found the key she was looking for. "I guess all the other sounds drown it out, like white noise. But it's still there." A frown marred her pretty face. "Even in my sleep it stays."

"What about earplugs?"

Celeste laughed. "You don't think I've tried that, sweetheart? I have tried just about everything, as have a lot of the other 'hum sufferers'."

"So you've talked to others that have experienced the phenomena?" Sam asked.

Celeste stopped in front of a powder blue door. "Are you kidding? We have weekly meetings, almost like a support group. When I first moved here and heard about 'the hum,' I thought it was a bunch of malarkey, but my experience has definitely made a believer out of me."

"Are all the accounts similar to yours?"

"Usually. Although the hum seems to be louder and more annoying for some of us. I have migraines, even a nosebleed occasionally. Others don't seem to mind it so much."

"Bird said you were thinking of selling The Dream Catcher?"

Her face took on a forlorn look. "Did you know your mother and I took a road trip here our senior year in college, stayed in this very inn? I fell in love with the old place. Amelia was drawn more to the sea, but I couldn't get the West out of my heart. I don't have one distinguishable drop of Native American blood, but their amazing culture and art have always called to me." She sighed heavily. "Retiring here, selling my work was a dream of mine. I didn't count on this phenomena interfering. I guess life loves to keep us on our toes."

"You didn't hear it the first time you were here?"

Caleb glanced at Sam, impressed the kid caught that piece of information. His mind was still locked on the idea his mother had been here, how life had thrown her the ultimate curve ball.

"No." Celeste shook her head. "We were only here for a weekend."

"Did the humming start as soon as you arrived this time?"

"No. I've owned The Dream Catcher for almost three years now. The humming started back in the spring. I went to the doctor thinking I had an ear infection. The idea I had become 'infected' by the hum never crossed my mind."

"What did the doctor find?"

"Not much. He told me about the legend, which I already knew, gave me a sympathetic pat on the back and sent me on my merry way. I did some research on my own, hooked up with some others who I knew had the same problem. I found out that Taos isn't the only place that this 'hum' happens. They've been blamed on anything from electromagnetic waves caused by meteors to secret governmental testing." She looked at Caleb. "But I guess you know all that because Dean said you two had spent some time researching since agreeing to take a look around."

Caleb nodded, remembering leaving that task to Dean as he ran off to California. They hadn't really discussed what the other hunter had found. "What else did Dean say? Anything that might have given you a clue as to where he was going the day he disappeared?"

"He asked about the town library at dinner the first night he was here," Celeste told them as she unlocked the door. "I didn't have a chance to speak with him at breakfast the next day before he left, but he told Sarah, one of the girls who works for me that he'd be in for dinner, asked her to join him."

"Let me guess," Caleb said. "Sarah's very attractive?"

The inn owner grinned. "Yes, as a matter of fact, she is. I believe Dean wanted to pick her brain further seeing as how she was a native citizen and all."

"Dean didn't show?" Sam asked as they entered the room.

"No. And when he didn't return for breakfast the following morning I became concerned."

"That's probably when he missed a check-in with me," Caleb said, recalling what he was doing when he noticed Deuce hadn't called him. It took him two hours to realize that Dean was in trouble. He rubbed his neck as the guilt began to build up again.

Celeste propped her hands on her hips, surveying the room. "He's cleaner than either of my boys."

"Our Dad is a stickler for organization," Sam said, shooting Caleb a knowing look.

Caleb nodded; John was a stickler for order. You couldn't find things easily if there was a mess, and they usually needed time on their side. "Celeste, do you mind if Sammy and I take a look around in here?"

"No, not at all." She glanced at her watch. "I need to make sure preparations for dinner are underway. Will you two be staying?"

"That depends on what turns up."

"I hope he's okay." She brought her hand to her necklace again, worrying the center stone. "I mean…no one has ever been hurt by the noise. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to him. I only let Bird call you because she assured me you and your friends were used to dealing in such matters."

Caleb placed a hand on the woman's back and gently guided her towards the door. "Don't worry, Celeste. Dean's good at what he does." He forced a smile. "He may even have this whole puzzle solved before we track him down."

"I hope so."

Once they were alone, Caleb made his way to the large cedar wardrobe along the wall as Sam knelt by the first bed. He opened the doors, finding what he was looking for.

The closet was void of any clothes, but the cedar walls displayed an intricate mural made from newspaper clippings, computer print outs, photos and maps. Deuce had been busy.

"His gun and knife are gone."

Caleb turned at the sound of Sam's voice. The youngest Winchester had pulled Dean's familiar green duffel from beneath the bed and had the contents scattered.

"At least he's armed." Caleb went back to studying his best friend's research. "Of course Deuce takes his Glock and blade with him to take a piss."

Sam repacked and shoved the bag under the bed. He moved to Caleb's side. "Any clue where he might have gone?"

Caleb scanned the research, looking for anything Dean might have marked about the region. "Here." He tapped the map. "Deuce highlighted Wheeler Peak."

"What's Wheeler Peak?"

He circled it with his finger once more. "It's not far from Tucker's guru resort in Trinity."

"Your friend who owns the meditation retreat you were telling me about at Stanford?"

Caleb nodded. "We planned on talking to him about the hum seeing as how he's lived in these parts for better than twenty years.I'm willing to bet your brother headed up that way to talk to talk to Tucker on his own when I didn't show."

"Did you call Tucker?"

Caleb shook his head. "No phones. The man is serious about what he does. When he says communing with the harmony of nature, he means it. We're talking no modern amenities. They do most of their cooking over a pit."

"Then we'll just have to take another road trip."

"A hike is more like it. The place doesn't have an access road. They pack supplies in on llamas."

"I can't imagine Dean being thrilled by that."

"He would have probably left the Impala in Trinity. If I remember right Tucker has an old army buddy that fronts his operation out of an outfitters shop."

"Is the shop called The Holy Trail?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Caleb frowned. "How did you…"

Sam pointed a finger to the familiar neat script scrawled on one of the newspaper articles. Dean had written Tucker's name above a dated 'grand opening' review for The Holy Trail Hiking Expeditions and Outfitters. "Dean must have made the connection between the shop and Tucker."

"I might have mentioned it." Caleb pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Bastard was probably dying to show me up. Wanted to get a jump start on things before I got here."

"Let's just hope his enthusiasm to prove what a great hunter he is doesn't get him killed." Sam tore the article off the wardrobe door and closed it.

Caleb closed the other door. "He is good at it, you know."

"What?" Sam went to the dresser, opened a few of the drawers.

"Hunting." Caleb folded his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling the need for vindication on Dean's part. "He's been working jobs with me, Bobby, and even Jim. He's at the top of his game."

"He should be. He's been doing it all his life."

Caleb huffed, not pleased that Sam didn't sound the least bit impressed. He was also surprised Sam didn't want to know about their gigs- a lot had happened. He moved to the bed, lifting the mattress. He removed the black leather journal he'd given to Dean for his eighteenth birthday. A hunter's journal was second only to the ring he wore. Caleb ran his hand reverently over the cracked spine. "He's a natural at it. You should appreciate that more than you do."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam slammed the empty drawers shut, turning to glare at Caleb. "People are natural athletes, natural intellects. Dean has a natural ability at baseball, at picking up women; at being a pain in the ass…hunting is a choice. _Dad's _choice."

Caleb shook his head. "You still don't get it do you." He tapped his finger on the cover of Dean's journal. "Hunting is as ingrained in your brother as breathing."

"Says the other John Winchester clone. Forgive me if I don't trust you to be objective on the subject of anything Brotherhood related." He pointed to the book. "In case you've not realized it, that's not a bible, and neither is The Art of War. Dad's rules aren't the commandments. Hunting isn't our divine birth right."

Sam moved to turn away, but Caleb stopped him, grabbing his arm. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that my brother has gone missing in the mountains of New Mexico because he was following our crazy father's crusade to right some wrong that was done twenty years ago." Sam jerked his arm from Caleb's grasp. "He recklessly risks his life over and over again for a cause that is both inane and illogical."

"Saving the innocent, helping people is silly? Ridiculous?" Caleb felt mortally wounded. They were ideals everyone should live up to, not just the hunters in The Brotherhood.

"Come on, Caleb. Dean doesn't do this job for the greater good. He does it because Dad told him to. He's a mindless soldier in somebody else's war. A war that will eventually get him killed in some bloody battle with not so much as an American flag or a twenty-one gun salute to remember him by, let alone a shot at sainthood. Dad's idea of The Brotherhood is more cult than lofty cause."

Caleb wrapped his hands in Sam's shirt and slammed him against the wardrobe. Every fiber of his being was itching to pound some sense into the kid. His fist clenched, arm recoiled on its own volition. Only the faintest memory of a five-year-old Sammy clinging to his sick older brother trying desperately to instill whatever warmth the smallest planet Mercury could offer kept him from doing the deed. He lowered his fist. "You don't talk about him like that. You don't talk about The Brotherhood like that. Ever! Do you understand me?"

Sam shoved him, falling short of breaking the hold. "It's the truth."

"Whose truth? Yours? Since when, Sam? I remember when you wanted nothing more than to be like your brother. When you cried to go on hunts with him and your father."

"I also believed in dragons, wrote letters to Santa Claus and thought you could keep him safe while I was gone." Sam's voice broke. "You were supposed to protect him, Caleb. I counted on that, damn it. Where were you when he was off trying to show you up? Where's the great John Winchester now? Or your precious Brotherhood?"

"It was my job to back him up on this. The responsibility falls on me, not your dad, not any other hunter." Caleb let him go, took a step back. "And I was off in the real world you love so much, chasing normal, Runt." He shook his head. He'd been so blind. "But look where that got me-where it got your brother. Take a good long look."

"The art show?" Sam said, suddenly.

Caleb watched the familiar light bulb moment, cursing Sam's quickness. He frowned. "Drop it, Sam."

"The new artist…that was you, wasn't it? That's the business you had in L.A." Sam ignored the command, taking a step forward. "That's how you got the tickets for Jess, how you knew the show would be ending?"

A knock on the door rescued Caleb from replying. Celeste poked her head around the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but Sarah's here. I thought you two might want to ask her more about what she and Dean discussed."

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "Yeah. That would be great." He licked his lips, forcing a tight smile. "Tell her we'll be right down."

Caleb slipped the journal in his pocket, turning to Sam. "Let's go."

"You didn't answer me about the show." Sam grabbed his arm. "Were you the painter?"

"You think you're the first one to have dreams, Sammy?" Caleb pulled away. He'd been offered a golden opportunity and taken it without thinking it through. "We all have them. Some of us just don't figure in the expense of having them come true." Dean had been tempted in the same fashion, only with a baseball scholarship to LSU. Deuce had turned it down. Caleb wasn't quite so unselfish. "We find out a little too late what it might cost us and that it might not be us paying the ultimate price."

"You think Dean's missing because you took a chance on painting? That's crazy. More of Dad's fucked up logic."

"You said it yourself. I was supposed to watch his back. Now Dean's hurt. Do the math, Einstein." John told him to get his head out of his ass countless times. Tri-Corp was enough and it provided cover. Training to be The Knight was his top priority, not chasing after some stupid dream. Caleb should have listened. "Face it. Your old man has an uncanny way of being right, especially when we don't want him to be."

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"Dad was right," Sam said, quietly.

Caleb took his eyes from the road to shoot him a puzzled look. "About the fear thing?"

"About a lot of things."

"He was," Caleb confirmed, carefully.

Sam shifted in his seat, turning towards the other psychic. "I didn't mean to hurt Dean when I went to Stanford."

Caleb looked even more confused. "Okay."

"I really did think I was doing the right thing for all of us." Sam picked at the black leather bracelet around his wrist, the image of Dean's face from when they found him in New Mexico suddenly filling his mind. "And I wanted to be a lawyer, _really_ wanted to be a lawyer." He blinked away the painful image, exhaling. "Then I met Jess, she became part of that dream. I didn't want to risk it, couldn't jeopardize it all by looking back. Leaving him in that hospital in New Mexico was the hardest thing I've ever done. "

"I don't think I'm the one you need to be talking to about this."

Sam didn't miss the fact Caleb had regained his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "I think Dean understands." He and his brother spent two years on the road, rebuilding, repairing. They were true brothers again, as close as they ever were, maybe more because of their father's absence. He and Caleb had not had that luxury.

"Dean would forgive you anything. Nothing you've done or will do is likely to change the way he feels about you. Trust me." Caleb kept his eyes on the road. "But it doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to hear you say you're sorry."

"I've told him." Even as Sam said it, he realized it wasn't true. "At least I meant to." What if he never had the chance to now?

"It's not too late."

He brought his hand to his mouth, chewed at the side of his thumb. "You really believe we'll get him out of this?"

"I do."

"And the deal…" Sam wanted nothing more than to hear the steadfast hope he could count on from Caleb.

"We'll fix it. We have to."

It really was that simple. Sam needed his brother. He wanted his family back safe. Caleb felt the same way. "Rose won't be at Catherine Blake's home. Discovery would be too much of a risk. Police and their questions would only complicate things for her."

"That's where your research of the area will come in and my part of the plan."

"Can you track Dean once we're there?"

"Maybe." Caleb sighed. " If I have a little boost. You know how it works."

"I know it's not your best talent, but you found us easily enough any time it suited your purposes."

"I can usually sense those close to me. If I push I can get a reading on a general area where they are. It's more gut instinct than ability."

"It's more than I can do."

"Because you hold back."

Sam stifled a groan. He was happy with his stilted abilities, and was tiring of the constant push by Caleb. "No, because I don't have the skill."

"I've seen you find Dean when I couldn't."

"I'd rather bank on your innate instincts than my fledgling abilities."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." Caleb grinned. "Unlike me, you are Dean's brother. That trumps anything I could pull out of my psychic bag of tricks."

Sam knew the grin was supposed to take some of the bite off the remark, but it was easy to read the underlying thoughts. "You'd switch places with me if you could."

Caleb flinched, his smile fading. "I could never take your place. Trust me."

Those two words were both reassuring and resentful. "I didn't mean…" Sam stammered, hoping to recant the sentiment if not the statement. "I just meant that Dean is the most important thing to you. Like you said about Dad, he's why you stayed. " It was lame, but Caleb seemed willing to cut him some slack.

"He wasn't the only reason." A faint imitation of his lopsided grin reappeared. "His kid brother had kind of grown on me, too."

Sam laughed. "You make me sound like a rash."

"Fungus is more like it…harder to get rid of."

"I frisked Bobby for you to get your precious amulet."

"I changed your diapers."

There wasn't much Sam could say to that. "Okay. We're even."

"We're far from even, Runt." Caleb reached out and turned on the radio. "I'll need your help after the ritual." He relaxed against the seat, pushing the accelerator a little harder. Sam didn't miss the glint in his eyes before he picked up Dean's discarded sunglasses and slid them on. "And you're the one who's going to explain to Deuce why the Impala has dog hair, fleas and drool in the backseat."

Sam feigned a put upon snort, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure, give me the easy job."

"Definitely a task for a brother." Caleb turned to look at him once more, his eyes masked by the glasses. "But you're right. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat."

Without the ability to see past the shades, Sam wasn't sure if Caleb was still joking or not, had no clue as to how to respond either way. So, he felt a mix of relief and guilt when Caleb quickly returned his attention to the road, deterring any further conversation by turning up the volume of the radio playing the latest top 40.

Sam rested his head against the passenger side window, watching the scenery blur. He swallowed the lump in this throat and closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him if only for a short reprieve, praying no nightmares awaited him on the other side.

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"I keep having this dream." Dean tossed his latest catch back into the water, watched it swim away. "Actually it's a dream I used to have a lot as a kid."

Jim peered at him from under the straw hat he'd pulled from his magically endless wicker picnic basket. "Flying monkeys or giant grizzly bear?"

Dean shook his head, a slight grin tugging at his mouth. "You still remember?"

"Oh yes." Jim threaded his hook through a piece of raw chicken liver. "I finally had to hide that video of The Wizard of Oz to keep Samuel from asking to watch it. I feared you might never rest peacefully again."

Dean reached for the container of bait, loading his own line. "I haven't thought about those damn things in years. I guess I was lucky Sammy got over his Cowardly Lion fixation."

"So I take it the bear has begun visiting you again?" Jim surmised.

Dean nodded. "Damn thing won't leave me alone."

"You've never been overly fond of the creatures."

That was an understatement, but Dean appreciated Jim's attempt to spare his pride. "They scare the hell out of me."

"Yes. I recall your brother and Caleb took great pleasure in exploiting that weakness."

Dean snorted. "I'll never forget them hanging those honeycombs in my tent on that forced camping trip Mackland took us all on." Dean had nearly pissed his pants when he woke to sounds of scratching and sniffing outside, felt the drops of honey drip onto his face, in his hair. Lake Silver Ring was known for its grizzly sightings. "I thought I was going to be bear food."

Jim didn't quite keep the smile from his face, but he gave it a good shot. "Perhaps if you had shared your nightmares they wouldn't have been quite so zealous in their torture."

"I never told anyone." Dean cast his line, reeled it in a bit. He glanced at Jim. "No one but you."

"As I recall it took some finagling on my part. The promise of a midnight snack, left over apple pie, a cup of hot chocolate."

"Caleb and Sammy weren't the only ones to exploit my weaknesses."

"But I had the purest of intentions." Jim smiled. "I only wished to help make you feel better, to erase the fear from your eyes."

"You drove a hard bargain…and I was only seven." Dean remembered the power the pastor wielded during his childhood. Sam was always enamored by the man's magical tales of dragons, but for Dean the farm was every bit a protective fortress as Merlin's made-up castle had been for his brother. He felt safe enough to let down his guard.

"If only it were that easy to get you boys to talk about what troubled you after you grew older. Nothing short of truth serum would suffice."

"Dad didn't exactly encourage an open forum where our feelings were concerned. Emoting equaled extra training." And as he grew older, his father visited the farm with less and less frequency. Dean now realized some of the reasoning behind the change. He wasn't the only one Jim could reach. John wasn't immune to the pastor's prying eye and open heart.

"Repress was your father's motto." Jim removed his hat, ran his fingers around the frayed rim. "Believe it or not, I embraced that same slogan for a good bit of time after the war. Emma would have none of it, though. She helped me see past the false illusion that stoic silence shows strength."

Dean slipped his line back into the water, let the current take it. "It's just a stupid dream."

"We are all afraid of something, my boy. There's no shame in fear."

Dean rested his rod against the side of the boat. "That's just it; I don't even know why I'm afraid of them. It's not like I was ever attacked by a grizzly. Hell, I've only seen one bear up close and it was my fear of it that caused me the big trouble, not the animal itself."

Jim leaned forward, settling his hat on his head once more. "Which came first, the fear of the bear or the bear dream?"

"The age old chicken or egg question." Dean wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. The sun was at its peak, hot rays beat down from the blue sky above them. It seemed much hotter than it had only moments before. "I really don't know."

"What happens in the dream?" Jim asked. "You never did tell me in great detail."

Dean hesitated, but knew by the determined look on the pastor's face, the man was dug in. "It's always the same. I'm running along a path in the woods, not like I'm being chased, but more like I'm trying to catch up to someone. I can hear people up ahead. Dad, Sammy, Caleb…sometimes I even hear Mom's voice, her laugh."

Dean swiped at his face again to keep the heavy sweat from his eyes. "I can't reach them; only catch a glimpse of clothing around the corner, a flash of their backs beyond the next bend. It's like I'm marred in mud. But then their voices become clearer, closer and I think I'm gaining ground." He paused, licking his dry lips. He suddenly realized how thirsty he was, and was tempted to ask if Jim had some sweet tea hidden in that treasure basket of his. "Then the bear shows up."

"I see," Jim said.

"Yeah." Dean rubbed his palms over his jeans. "It lumbers in from the woods to the trail in front of me. The thing is fucking huge. A grizzly. It paws the dirt, snorting. A challenge, I guess."

"Believe it or not black bears are supposedly much more aggressive than the grizzly."

Dean shook his head. "Tell that to my subconscious, Merlin, because Smokey is definitely not there to check for forest fires."

"Sorry." Jim smiled, patting his knee. "Go on."

"I try to go around him, but he stands on his hind feet. Even though I know the thing dwarfs me, it seems like he's staring me right in the eyes, daring me to move." Dean placed a hand on his heart as his chest constricted with remembered panic. "I'm so close to him then, I can feel his hot breath on my face, see the wetness around his nose and mouth. Then I hear the screams."

"Screams?" Jim asked.

"Dad and Sammy are yelling for me…they're in trouble. Something's hurting them…tearing them apart from the sound of it. I want to go to them, help them. But the bear is there. I'm frozen. Afraid. I can't move. Their screams get louder…they keep calling for me."

"That must be a terrible feeling."

Dean held Jim's blue gaze. "Not as bad as when the yelling stops, and there's only silence."

Jim nodded, looking pale. "I remember the moment Emma drew her last breath. It was this strange mix of horror and peace. I was both relieved the sound of her struggles had ceased, yet painfully aware that she was lost to me forever."

Dean rubbed his eyes, sighed. "In the dream I know it's too late-that they're gone" He laughed, though nothing about the dream or his current situation called for any humor. "The bear drops to all fours, and saunters away. Sometimes it seems like he was never even there. Maybe he wasn't."

"What do you think it all means?"

"Isn't that what you're here for?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at the preacher.

Jim straightened his shoulders, gave a small shake of his head. "I'm not the psychiatrist, that would be Mackland's field of expertise, but it would seem to me that a dream is as individualistic as the person who has it. What truly matters is the meaning you give it, Son."

Dean understood what the pastor was saying, but still would have liked an easy answer. "I…I think it means I'm going to lose everyone I love because I can't defeat the thing I fear the most and then I'll be completely alone."

Jim studied him for a moment. "Did you know the Cherokee believe that bears were once human?"

Dean dropped his chin to his chest, exhaled. "You don't say."

"They have a great respect and affinity for the bear, believe it has strong magic."

Dean lifted his head, rubbing at his temples where a steady pounding had taken up residence. "That's really interesting, but doesn't say much about my dream."

"On the contrary, I believe it may explain a lot."

"And that would be?"

"Maybe the bear is not your enemy. Maybe he's there to show you something very important, something you don't want to see."

"Like what?"

"That it is not always your job to save the ones you love. That sometimes you aren't meant to get there in time. Sometimes we have to let those we love face their fate on their own; you have to let them go. We all lose people we love. And as much as it pains me to tell you this, there are moments when we are all truly and completely alone."

"That really stinks, Merlin."

"The truth often does." Jim gave his knee another comforting pat. "But as the old saying goes, it shall set you free."

"Free from what? From Rose? From my contract?"

"I doubt if it is anything so concrete."

"Figures." Dean picked up his pole again. "I just wish the dreams would stop. I wish this whole damn nightmare would hurry up and end."

"Be careful what you wish for." Jim held his gaze. "It might just come true."

RCJ

A/N: For that certain reader, you know who you are, that requested a story about the Christmas revelation, I have laid the ground work, and will do my best to write it soon. ;-) Thanks for reading-Rid


	6. Chapter 6

Edge of Winter

Chapter 6

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! They are always appreciated. Thanks to Tidia who reminded me of the meaning behind this AU…to give a glimpse of hope, even in the darkest places. This is my favorite chapter so far and the longest. I hope you enjoy it. And remember, this story is about two people coming to a point where they can reconcile things they misunderstood about one another in the past, to what they think they know of each other in the present. It isn't about being purposively cruel or maligning someone's character. It's about accepting that those we love aren't always what we want them to be and that maybe our points of view are more biased and skewed than we want to admit and that we too have fallen short in their eyes also. It's a journey of letting go, and grasping something new, of giving unconditional love. I'm very grateful at having the chance to try and tell it. The road to understanding is paved with pitfalls, but the final destination is by and far worth the bumpy ride. –Rid

RCJ

"_Forgivenss is not having to understand. Understanding may come later, in fragments an insight here and a glimpse there, after the forgiveness has taken place." –Lewis B. Smedes_

The banks of the Black Warrior River with its ominous murky water seemed an appropriate place to Sam for this part of their plan. Caleb found a deserted stretch, not far outside the city limits of Tuscaloosa, the glowing full moon and sparse stars their only witnesses. They left Bobby slumbering blissfully unaware in the locked and salt-encircled Impala while they made the short trek to the spot. He couldn't get Dean out of his mind, guilt mixing badly with the fear and concern. Sam felt he was somehow letting his brother down by going along with Caleb's plan, a plan Dean would never have agreed to.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam stood, discarding the stick he'd used to make the last line of the devil's trap in the sand. He tossed it into the choppy waters wishing he could be rid of his misgivings as easy. "We can find another way."

"No." The older hunter shook his head, meeting Sam's apprehensive gaze with one of certainty. "This will work. It's the best way. The demon's abilities will boost mine; I should be able to track Dean then."

Neither of them had sensed Dean since crossing over the Alabama line, even coming into Tuscaloosa had garnered no psychic trace of his brother, no Triad link either and it was wearing on their reserves. Sam dusted off the damp knees of his jeans, wishing he could find a valid argument against what the other psychic was saying. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," Caleb said. He looked in the direction they had come. "You helped prepare for the ritual, now maybe you should go back to the car and wait, make sure Bobby doesn't wake up and come looking for us. I'll call you when I have control and you can come break the trap."

"I'm not leaving you alone." Sam bristled at the coddling. Caleb didn't want Sam to witness the transformation even though Sam had seen a bit of the process from his unexpected visit to Jessup's. Sam was desperate enough to risk Caleb to assure his brother's safety, but he wasn't going to leave the older hunter alone to do it. It was time Caleb accepted him as an equal, not a child to shield. "You need me to watch your back." Dean would never forgive him if he didn't.

"That wasn't what Jessup was doing," Caleb growled. "If you stay, you need to accept that."

"Then I'll stand guard." Sam felt his muscles tense at the idea of harming Caleb if things got out of hand. "I have the holy water and the Colt in case we need them."

"Good." Caleb nodded solemnly. "Use them if you have to."

"How will I know if I need to?" Sam still felt he was lacking in details of the ins and outs of the process. "How long before you can take complete control?"

"I'm not sure. If the summons works, we'll be playing with a pretty high level demon. But you'll know if there's a threat," Caleb assured. "Keep a link open with me. You'll sense its presence and realize if it starts to take over. Don't break the trap until I tell you it's safe."

"What if I can't tell when you're in control?" Sam used his abilities sparingly because of how inept he often felt. The older psychic had much more faith in Sam's talents, a fact both humbling and irritating.

Caleb sighed. "Imagine our connection like a beam of light. You control how strong it is by focusing on it. You do it to some degree when we communicate telepathically."

Caleb did most of the telepathic communication, Sam usually listened. They had used it some in Wyoming and a little at Bobby's when they were discussing things they didn't want the mechanic to overhear. "I haven't practiced."

"Trust me. If something gets in the way, the light will become dimmer. I'll seem farther away from you…if that makes sense. You'll notice, practice or no practice."

"Like the sun going behind a cloud, or an eclipse of the moon?" Sam remembered when he arrived at Jessup's and reached out for the other psychic. "I couldn't sense you in the houseboat when you possessed the demon."

Caleb smiled. "Exactly. If the demon gets control, I go off the air."

Sam propped his hands on his hips, setting his jaw at the other man's crooked grin. "Did I mention how much I'm against this?"

"A few hundred times, but who's counting?"

Sam licked his lips, feeling self-conscious despite the other psychic's support. "What's it like?" "It's not as bad as you think," Caleb replied with a tilt of his head. "It really hurt at first, but now… Actually, it's kind of a rush."

"A rush?" Sam took a step back, staring at his friend. It wasn't the description he was looking for. He remembered little of his time when he was possessed by Meg, but he recalled enough to know it had not been pleasant in the least. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"I'm just being honest. Imagine getting an instant upgrade on your computer." Caleb gestured to his head. "New improved hard drive complete with Bose speakers and HD plasma screen. Everything's faster, sharper." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that, instant power boost."

"I think considering how you look and feel afterwards, Bobby's narcotic high assumption would be a better suited metaphor. Crack heads and heroin addicts feel good in the moment too I bet."

Caleb shook his head. "It's not like that, Sammy. In fact, it almost seems like my senses have been wrapped in cotton, and suddenly freed. Everything is clear." He looked away. "Nevermind. It's not important. I'm doing this for one reason and one reason only."

Caleb's words were sounding too much like those of his fellow 'special children' that taunted him in his nightmares about Cold Oak. A little voice in his head that sounded too much like Dean's taunted that once lines were crossed, it was impossible to go back. They had come too far to go back now. "Let's get this over with." Sam pulled the wrapped amulet from his pocket and tossed it to Caleb. "Bobby won't sleep forever and I for one don't want to explain how we managed to get the necklace back."

The other hunter caught the pouch, removing the amulet before tossing the velvet bag away out of the devil's trap. Sam felt the palms of his hands begin to sweat as the chain transformed from ancient relic to jeweled treasure, even more alluring in the silver illumination streaming from above like a spotlight in a display case. Caleb slipped the chain over his head, and knelt beside the copper bowl, iron blade and other supplies before him. "I have to perform the ritual, repeat the summons, then it should only take a few moments."

"What should I do?"

Caleb's gold gaze met his, somehow brighter in the moonlight. His mouth tipped up slightly. "Stand guard, as you so optimistically put it, Skywalker."

Sam nodded. "I can do that, Obi Wan.""A quick prayer couldn't hurt," Caleb added.

Sam snorted. Only in their world would asking God for a successful demonic possession be a pious request. Despite knowing Caleb meant no harm, Sam feared his friend's unintentional blasphemy would incur some kind of wrath they didn't need brought down upon them. "How about I cross my fingers instead?"

"Jim wouldn't like it." Caleb dumped the ingredients in the bowl, shrugging as he struck a match. But suit yourself. Just remember luck has never been _our_ lady, more like a conniving, fickle bitch."

Every break arrived at the last minute and came at a high cost. Chance and Destiny felt some minuscule amount of sympathy for their plight and tossed meager crumbs at their feet in pity or possibly mockery. Even when things worked out, Sam felt it was a little too late, and less than they deserved. New Mexico was a perfect case in point.

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Trinity, New Mexico

November 2002

"That was helpful, if we needed to know the complete history of Trinity and Wheeler's Peak to find Deuce." Dale, Tucker's friend had been more than willing to share with them everything he'd told Dean two days before.

"You're the one who paid him a small fortune for this overpriced junk because tourists like the name- Holy Trail." Sam strapped into his own pack, pulling the waist strap taught across his mid-section. "We could have brought our own supplies and still known exactly the same thing we knew when we left The Dream Catcher. Dean was on his way to Tucker's place."

"Sarah said she 'thought' Dean mentioned coming here. She wasn't sure."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. She was too busy deciding if Dean's eyes were jade green or moss green. _That _conversation was helpful too."

Caleb took a calming breath, trying to remind himself that Sam was worried, which equaled bitchy in Winchester land. "If you have a better plan, by all means…"

"It's _Sam_, and I think we should have gone straight to your buddy Tucker as soon as Sarah told us what she knew. All Dale did was confirm Dean was here. The Impala isn't in the parking lot. It's obvious Dean made it off the mountain. We're simply wasting time and your money."

Caleb didn't point out that the topographical map, water and climbing gear would make the trip to Tucker's possible. It had been several years since he'd been to Tucker's place and they didn't need to waste more time by getting lost. "It's just money and mine to do with what I please. Besides, we need to know what information Dean got from Tucker and we'll be there before sundown."

"Does that mean Dean will spend another night in God knows where?"

Caleb clenched his fist. "Not if we're lucky."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever happened."

Two hours later Tucker greeted them at the door of his cabin with a puzzled expression "Caleb Reaves as I live and breathe." The big man extended a meaty paw in Caleb's direction. "I thought for sure you'd had your fill of the place after Brother Jacob kicked you out of his yoga class all those years ago."

Sam was staring at him, but Caleb ignored the younger man, grasping Tucker's hand in a firm shake. "My fault for thinking the whole purpose of Tantric yoga was to encourage desires and uninhibited impulses." Caleb grinned, recalling the beautiful woman from one of Tucker's retreats who had inspired him to take the class in the first place. He had definitely learned some interesting poses from her.

Tucker laughed. "I don't think you need any encouragement in that department, Brother Caleb. True?"

Caleb conceded. "True." He gestured to Sam. "Tucker this is my nephew, Sam Winchester."

"It's good to meet you, Sam." He motioned them into his simple home with a pleased smile. "Dean didn't mention I would have the pleasure of meeting his brother when he was here earlier."

"It was a last minute thing," Sam said, slipping out of his pack and placing it on the floor by his feet.

"Are you also an aspiring journalist?"

"Journalist?"

"Dean was hoping to do a story on the area of Taos, specifically the 'hum'," Caleb explained hoping Sam would catch on. He removed his pack. "I explained how Tucker knew the area by heart. You remember. Right?"

"Right." Sam quickly nodded. "Dean is always looking for some crazy mystery to throw himself into."

Tucker scratched his bearded chin. "He did seem extremely focused. I offered to tell him about the history of Taos, the retreat even, but he was determined to question me about the humming phenomena. We had a very nice chat. That's why I was surprised to see you. I told Dean as much as I know."

"When exactly was Dean here?" Caleb asked.

"The day before yesterday, early, before lunch." The big man studied Caleb. "Haven't you talked with him? He said the two of you were meeting up later in the day."

"No." Caleb tried to quell his growing fear. "I wasn't able to make it and he wasn't at the bed and breakfast when we arrived earlier today."

"Perhaps he's out sightseeing or gathering more information for his story?"

"He won't answer his cell phone. No one's heard from him in two days," Sam said.

"That doesn't sound reassuring." Tucker stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "I hope he didn't take a trip in to Truchas alone. I encouraged him to wait for you."

Caleb met Tucker's gaze. "Truchas?"

"Yes. It's a small settlement along one of the peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains."

"Why would Dean have gone there?" Sam asked.

"And why do you hope he **didn't** go there?" Caleb asked the more important question, knowing his best friend's knack for selective listening. He would have discarded Tucker's warning.

"Truchas is a very private community. They prefer to keep their town to themselves."

"So they're not exactly the open arms Mayberry type, that doesn't exactly warrant concern."

Tucker gestured for Sam and Caleb to have a seat on the couch. He took a seat in the straight-backed chair to the right of the sofa. "Truchas has the certain reputation for unfriendliness towards outsiders; at least it has in the past."

Caleb continued to stand, folding his arms over his chest. "Unfriendliness?"

"Yes." Tucker looked up at him. "Visitors may find themselves lured into a fight they are destined to lose at one of the local bars or restaurants, perhaps find the tires of their cars slashed, windshields broken. Harmless, juvenile things like that."

"My brother wouldn't consider an assault on the Impala harmless." Sam sat on the edge of the couch cushion. "Our Dad loves that car; it's like his first born."

Caleb clenched his fists. "And juvenile isn't exactly the word I would consider for a backwoods bar fight either. I've been in enough to know how things get out of hand."

"I'm not insinuating that such things actually take place, or that Dean might have encountered that kind of trouble. As I said the rumors are often blown out of proportion, mostly because of The Sacred Brotherhood and its link to the hum."

"What?" Caleb shot Sam a quick panicked look. "Did you say Brotherhood?"

Tucker nodded. "The Hermanos Consagrado, a religious lay society known not only for its acts of kindness, but also for its self-inflicted practices of harm. Truchas is their home."

"Self-inflicted harm?"

"Yes. Canings, floggings..." Tucker waved his hand in the air as if the prospect was nothing out of the ordinary. "The occasional walking on hot coals, I suppose."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"From what I understand, it is a means to better appreciate the suffering of Christ," Tucker said. "To bring them closer to the Holy Spirit." He grinned. "I prefer a quiet walk in the woods. Nature is my conduit to the Lord, but they have a temple outside Truchas where they supposedly practice their secret rites. Not even the family members of the brotherhood are allowed to know what takes place within its hallowed walls."

Caleb took a deep breath, let it out slowly. As usual, their simple case had continued to snowball. "What does this brotherhood have to do with the hum?"

"Some believe theyare the ones responsible, channeling it through one of their rituals…of course that is if you believe as the Hermano Consagrado does about the true nature of the hum. That the hum is actually the voice of God."

"The voice of God?" Caleb rolled his eyes. "You're joking?"

Tucker's forehead furrowed, his bushy brown eyebrows bumping together in a disapproving V. "You should know me well enough to know I don't joke about such things. The Hermano Consagrado believes that those who hear the hum are being called upon by the Lord."

Sam inched even further to the edge of the sofa, his knees almost brushing against Tucker's. "Do you believe it's the voice of God?"

"What he believes isn't important," Caleb said, not bothering to hide his irritation. He stepped closer to Tucker. "What he told Dean is."

"I told him what I'm telling you. Some people, especially those native to this area, the old-timers, they believe the hum is sacred. Even naysayers of the theory claim to hear the hum more clearly near Truchas."

Caleb huffed. "And the fact that it's often annoying and painful?"

Tucker folded his hands together, giving Caleb a serene look. "No one said relating to God would be easy, Brother. Sometimes gifts are misinterpreted as a burden."

"So you do believe it's the voice of God?" Sam asked.

Caleb exhaled heavily, frustrated that Sam was now the one seeking trivial information and angry that Tucker was sounding like Pastor Jim. "What about this temple? The one near the village-you told Dean about that too?"

"Yes. I told him it was off limits to anyone but the elders of Consagrado."

Caleb met Sam's gaze. "He would have gone there first."

"But why?" Tucker asked. "I explained to him that no one in the order would talk to an outsider, especially one linked to a newspaper. Taos may encourage tourism, but Truchas discourages any publicity that would bring more outsiders into their mists."

"Dean would have found a way around that. He's smart that way, and stubborn."

"The local bar," Sam said.

Caleb nodded. "Where his charm would undoubtedly catch the attention of any local yokel looking for a fight." Dean could hold his own against men twice his size, but he didn't wear a fucking cape, no matter what he liked to think.

"Where is this town?" Sam asked.

"Off the high road between Taos and Santé Fe."

Caleb grabbed Sam's bag and tossed it to him, his bad feeling increasing ten-fold. "We need to go."

Tucker followed them to the door. "No one has been seriously injured in Truchas, nor has The Hermano been linked to anything nefarious."

"There's a first time for everything," Caleb said, reclaiming his pack from the floor. "Dean doesn't have the best of luck."

"I hope he's alright," Tucker said. "Perhaps you should contact the local authorities?"

"No." Caleb opened the door. "Let us look into it first. I'll send word through your buddy Dale as soon as Dean turns up."

"That would ease my mind, thank you." He took Caleb's hand and shook it. "Despite the circumstances, it was good to see you again, my friend."

"Same here, Tucker. Take care."

"You too, Brother Caleb and be certain I'll say a prayer for young Dean."

Caleb started off the porch, but hesitated when he heard Sam's soft voice.

"Tucker, what do you think God is trying to tell those who hear the hum? Do you think it could be a warning, maybe an omen?"

Tucker's tone was gentle, patient and Caleb remembered how he had instantly known from their first introduction the man was not the cult leader he had expected; his intentions were honest and true. It was the reason he couldn't work up any real irritation at the man for telling Dean about Truchas or for tolerating Sam's sudden curiosity.

"Well, the Hermanos think it is a call to arms in dark times…that the person is being asked to make a decision about something, or commanded to perform an act of sacrifice and that once completed the humming will go away."

"But what do _you_ think?" Sam asked.

Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat, clenching his fists as his eyes began to sting for no valid reason.

"I think that if it is the voice of God, maybe the hum is merely a reminder that_ He _is always near, with us every day and that one only needs to be open to understand all that is being offered to them."

"Like if you're truly watching, miracles happen every day," Sam said.

Caleb closed his eyes; Pastor Jim's words propelling the faint ache in his chest. He just wanted one miracle today to find Dean, safe and unharmed.

"I believe it is the same." Tucker sounded pleased by Sam's comparison. "Some of us are more willing to believe than others. True?"

"True," Sam said. "Thanks for talking to us."

"Come again when you and your family can visit longer. We can discuss those mysteries your brother is so fond of."

Caleb started walking again as Sam stepped onto Tucker's porch. He cut his gaze to the teenager when Sam caught up to him halfway across the courtyard. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"It's called research." Sam slung his pack onto his shoulders.

"Is that so?" Caleb raised a brow, remembering their earlier conversation about Dean's hunting skills. "I'd say you're a natural at it."

The younger man rolled his eyes at the inference. "I should be. I've been doing it my whole life."

"Maybe it's a calling. One you should listen to."

"I'm only doing this for Dean." Sam shook his head. "So don't get any ideas. I'm never coming back to hunting."

"You don't miss it? Not even a little bit?"

"The only thing I miss is my brother."

Sam's declaration took away any levity. Caleb focused on the path before them. "Maybe you should tell him that when we find him."

"If we find him," Sam grumbled. "If he showed up at that temple…"

Caleb stopped, turning to face the younger man. "Tucker told us that there's no evidence these religious freaks have hurt anyone outside their ranks. And you know Deuce; he can hold his own against anything supernatural, let alone a bunch of humans."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know," Caleb said. "But I'm willing to lay money that one of the friendly locals in Truchas does."

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

The Divining Rod was like any number of joints he'd been in with John or Dean. Scuffed wooden floors, glowing neon signs on the walls, numerous pool tables and dart boards filled along with the typical patrons. All eyes were on them as they walked through the swinging batwing doors.

"I'm guessing this is one of the unfriendly establishments Tucker warned us about," Sam said.

"Yeah. They're not really happy to see us." Caleb noticed the younger man was sticking close to his side as they made their way towards the bar. "Just the type of place Deuce would enjoy."

"Something else he inherited from Dad," Sam said.

Caleb took a seat at the corner of the bar so he had a clear vie w of the door. "He's not the only one that takes after Johnny."

Sam had been broodier than usual during their hike down from Tucker's and short drive to Truchas.

"What does that mean?" Sam claimed the stool beside him.

"Nothing." Caleb motioned to the bartender. The petite, dark-haired woman acknowledged him with a wary glance. He grinned at her. "Two of whatever is on tap, sweetheart."

"Hold up there, Nena." A tall man with a cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes took the empty seat by Sam. "I think these two gringos are lost."

Nena hesitated in drawing their beers, her gaze going from Caleb and Sam to the newcomer.

"That didn't take long," Sam murmured.

Caleb laughed, giving the cowboy a once over. "I think you might be the one that's lost, partner. The Silver Dollar Saloon is on the other side of town. Why don't you mosey on down there so my friend and I can quench our thirst from the dusty trail."

The man raised his chin and Caleb got a good look at his face from beneath the hat's shadow. He was sporting two faint blackened eyes and had a bandage across his nose. "Your money's no good here, boy."

"That your way of saying you want to buy me and my friend the first round, Hoss?"

"That's my way of saying get the hell out of our bar."

"Sorry, but we've come a long way for these beers and if you don't mind we'd like to drink them in peace."

"Caleb," Sam said, nodding to the group of very large men that had circled around behind the man at the bar.

"What's this?" Caleb leaned back, gestured to the group. A few of the others had injuries like their goon friend, tell-tale signs of a recent scuttle. "Is this the Truchas welcoming party we've heard so much about?" He nudged Sam. "You think they're going to give us the key to the town or show us a good time?"

"The only thing we'll be giving you is a one-way trip to the city line, and the only thing I'll be showing you is my fist."

"And the bad movie dialogue continues," Caleb said. He motioned to Nena. "How about those beers now before I have to re-break Hoss's nose?"

"How about you get some sense and move along, son." A different man spoke this time. He was older than their initial greeter at the bar, dressed similarly, but without the hat and bruises. Obviously he was smarter than his buddy. "We don't want any trouble."

"Then that gives us something in common," Sam said with a half smile. "We're just here to meet up with a friend of ours, and then we'll be on our way. Maybe you've seen him?"

"You don't have any friends here, boy." The cowboy leaned in close to Sam. "So, I'd say that's a big fat 'no' on me having seen him."

Caleb edged around the younger hunter. "Are you sure about that, Hoss?" He focused his eyes on the cowboy. "Probably arrived a couple of days ago. Dark blond hair, green eyes, wearing a leather jacket and driving a black Chevy that gives grease monkeys a hard on." Caleb smiled. "He has a mean right hook and a vicious left jab-the kind that snaps a man's nose like a dry twig."

"We don't get a lot of visitors here," one of the bystanders spoke up. "Maybe you got your locations mixed up. You should try Taos, or go onto Santa Fe. They like tourists there."

"No, we're certain he was coming here." Caleb stood, continuing to stare at the cowboy. "Did you give him the same warm reception you honored us with?"

The cowboy grinned, showing off his tobacco stained teeth. "If he had your smart mouth we might have treated him to something a little more up close and personal."

Sam started to get up, but Caleb put a hand on his shoulder as he read the man's mind. Dean had tangled with the man, but the cowboy and his friends had totally underestimated their latest victim. . "How about your buddies?" Caleb ran his gaze over the other men. "Any of you talk to our friend? Or maybe it was him that did all the talking?" It was easier to take certain information if the person you were searching had the idea on their minds like pulling up a specific folder from a computer. Dean had whipped their asses.

Caleb turned to look at Nena , who suddenly found getting their beer an imperative mission. "Or maybe Nena remembers serving him?" He didn't even have to probe her thoughts before she told him what he wanted to hear.

"He was here way before the evening crowd." Nena turned, sitting their drinks in front of them with a huff. She glared at the cowboy. "And what's this 'our' and 'we' bullshit, Carl? My father owns the place and I can damn well serve who I please." She moved her eyes to Sam. "I liked the looks of your friend so I sold him a bottle of Cuervo for way more than it was worth and let him buy me a couple of rounds of my favorite whiskey." She winked at the youngest Winchester. "I like the looks of you too, Dimples, so I'm going to charge you and your friend double for those beers, and offer to cook you up the best hamburger this side of the Mississippi. Things have been slow this week."

"Damn it, Nena, it ain't polite to bite the hand that feeds you," the cowboy said.

"Since when have I ever given a damn about manners, Carl?" Nena turned to Caleb. "He's just sore your friend broke his nose, and then mopped the floor with his band of merry men."

"Ain't that a kick in the pants, Carl?" Caleb said in his best western drawl, giving the cowboy a crooked grin. "Women are a fickle lot."

"You are one smart mouthed son of a…."

"Carl, you and the boys go back to your card game and stop running off my customers before you get your ass kicked again or I call the Deputy." Nena shooed the men away with a towel. "You know how the Mayor feels about our new softer approach to community cultural awareness."

"I guess that means they're going to refrain from busting heads whenever someone tries to drop in for a visit," Caleb said under his breath.

Sam nodded. "Let's hope Dean was given the same consideration."

Caleb met his gaze. "They didn't lay a fist on him."

Nena leaned on the bar as the other men grumbled and moved away to a table in the corner. "You'll have to overlook those guys. A lot of the younger business owners really are trying to offer a new, more hospitable atmosphere, but old habits are hard to break. People are starting to realize Taos has the right idea, drawing on its heritage and art community to bring in tourism money."

Caleb picked up his beer. "Does that feeling span to include the Hermano Consegrado?"

Nena picked up a shot glass and turned it up. "I'll give you the same deal I did your cute friend, _Sweetheart_. Every question will cost you a drink."

"I can see you're definitely one of the modern thinking, jet-setting entrepreneurs." Caleb pulled out his wallet, tossed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. "How about we just cut right to the chase, shall we?"

"I'm trying to pay my way through college so I can get the hell out of this backwoods town." Nena glanced over their shoulders to the table of men who were once again absorbed in their card game. She picked up the bill and tucked it into her bra. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you tell our friend?" Sam asked.

Nena poured herself a whiskey and shrugged. "He asked about The Hermano and where they held their secret meetings." She tossed back the drink, licking her lips as she lined up another. "I explained where the old mission was and chatted about the mysterious hum and some of the more unusual happenings, then he was gone."

"Is this mission the sacred temple where The Hermano holds their ceremonies?" Caleb asked.

"Temple?" Nena laughed. "It's more like a hunting lodge, but yeah they gather up there every month or so, to be closer to God." She filled her glass and corked the whiskey. "If you ask me I think it has more to do with getting away from their wives and children than it does talking with their Savior. No girls allowed in their club. It's archaic."

Caleb shared a look with Sam. "Would they have had a meeting in the last couple of nights?"

Nena shrugged. "I don't think so. You can usually see the torches from here."

"Torches?" Sam asked.

The bartender nodded. "There's no electricity up there. Since it's the highest peak, it's easy to detect the lights in the distance." Her grin grew. "You can hear the screams sometimes, too. Of course it's hard to tell the difference between a good flogging and a Catamount."

"Catamount?" Sam frowned.

Caleb picked up the increase in the younger hunter's heart rate as Nena leaned closer to him. "Mountain lion, panther, you know, handsome…a cougar."

"You have cougars?"

She bobbed her head, her chin-length dark hair brushing her cheek. "Rattlers and bear, too. There are other reasons to be careful in these mountains besides the Neanderthals hiding behind their ignorant beliefs."

"Where is this mission?" Caleb asked.

"There's a trailhead that will take you to it on the south side of town, but I really wouldn't suggest hiking up there tonight. It's already dark, the trail is treacherous and steep in a lot of places, and I was serious about the panthers. Why don't you two stay for those burgers and get a fresh start in the morning?"

Caleb tossed another twenty on the bar, with a shake of his head. "Did our friend ask about a place to leave his car?"

"Suit yourself." Nena scooped up the twenty. "I told him there was a parking lot near the trail. It's not exactly the safest of places if you want your vehicle in one piece when you get back."

Sam shook his head. "He wouldn't have gone for that."

"What else?" Caleb asked.

Nena sighed. "My family owns an old garage not too far from there. It's closed down now, but I told him he could probably stash his ride there without anyone the wiser."

Caleb snorted. "How much did that cost him?"

"That was on the house. He promised to bring his buns back here and take me for a drive. Never showed though." She pouted, holding out her hand. "I've learned my lesson."

Caleb forked over another ten. "Where's the garage?"

Nena grabbed a napkin, a pen from under the bar and scribbled a crude map which she tucked into Sam's shirt pocket, letting her hand linger on his chest. "When you find him tell him I'm still open for that date." She winked at the youngest Winchester. "We could make it a threesome if you like."

Caleb held back a laugh as Sam nearly tumbled off the stool trying to scramble away from the bartender's advances. "I think he'd like that, Nena." He tossed another twenty to the girl. "Keep this between us if you don't mind."

Nena picked up the twenty and pressed her shiny pink mouth against it in a kiss. "My lips are sealed." She tucked the twenty in the front of her shirt. "You boys come back now."

"At least someone in the town likes us," Sam said once they were out of the bar.

"I think she really liked you, which makes me wonder about her character." Caleb grinned as the younger man's face reddened. "After we find Dean maybe you should take her up on her offer. She was pretty hot, despite her taste in men."

"I'll be going back to Stanford after we find Dean. I don't have time for a hook-up."

"Yeah." Caleb opened the door to their Sedan. "Jessica would probably frown on that extracurricular activity."

"I told you Jess is just a friend."

"Keep telling yourself that, Sammy." Caleb patted the hood. "Still not going to make it true."

"Why does it matter to you anyway?"

"I just want you to be careful, that's all." Caleb slid into the driver's seat and waited for Sam to get in.

"Careful? Careful as in don't get my heart broken careful, or careful in make sure I use protection careful. Because I've sat through the 'black bras and strappy sandals' speech more than once."

Caleb turned to look at him, frustrated they had once again crossed some invisible line, wondering at just how much a buffer Dean had been between them all those years. "Careful as in we're not exactly the most normal of people and having normal people in our lives at best can complicate things and at worst it can…"

"What?" Sam demanded.

"It can put them in danger." Caleb shoved the keys in the ignition. "It can get them killed."

"I wouldn't put Jessica in danger because I'm not a hunter anymore."

"You might change what you're doing, but you can't change who you are."

"So I'm doomed, is that it?" The younger man shook his head. "I don't believe you. You're a real piece of work."

Caleb started the car and jerked it into drive. "What?"

"This is just one more ploy to get me to come back to hunting. You want to make me think I'm some kind of freak, cursed or maybe that I something just like…"

Sam caught himself but not before Caleb gleaned his thoughts. Sometimes taking information was a bitch. Caleb arched a brow, a cold chill sweeping over him. "Go ahead and say it." He tapped his head. "I already know what you're thinking."

Sam looked away. "You want me to think I'm like you…like Dean." He turned to face Caleb again; his eyes wet and shiny in the streetlight glow streaming into their car. "But I'm nothing like either of you," he said heatedly. "I am normal. I can finish school, I can have a career and a family…I can fit in the real world. That's where I want to be, where I belong."

Caleb swallowed thickly, pulling away from the curb. "Whether you believe this or not, Sam, I hope you're right." He wished like hell that Dean was in the car with them. "Nothing would make me happier."

"Except having Dean get exactly what he wants."

"Come again?"

"You can placate to me all you want, tell me how you want me to be happy, but you're still Dean's champion. You'd have me right back in Dad's little army in a heartbeat if it satisfied Dean." Sam challenged.

Caleb slammed on the breaks in the middle of the street, shoved the car in park. "You make it sound like Dean's some favored child and you're his favorite toy. Grow the fuck up."

"A security blanket is more like it."

Caleb ran a hand down his mouth, trying to remember his meditation breathing to calm himself. "Are you kidding me? Do you really think that? Or does all that bullshit just make you feel better about leaving, give you some kind of justification for ignoring him over the last six months like he was nothing to you?"

"That's not fair." Sam slammed his fist against the plush seat. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Neither has Dean!" Caleb gripped the steering wheel, glaring at the youngest Winchester. "Goddamnit, Sam. He's didn't do anything wrong, but he's being punished just the same. You tell me what's so fucking fair about that."

"Have you for once thought that maybe he wasn't the only one hurting? That I haven't been doing this to be cruel? That maybe _I'm _the one completely on my own, without my family? Dean has Dad; he has you."

"Don't pull that." Caleb shook his head. "Mac's called, so has Jim. Hell, even Bobby. I called you countless times and wrote."

"To get me to come back."

"No," Caleb denied. "If you'd bothered to call me back, you might have been surprised."

"As about as surprised as I was when you showed up at my dorm because of _Dean_. It's never just about me."

The older psychic shook his head, realizing the futileness in any reply he offered. He thought of telling Sam that Dean's whole life had been mostly about him; that they had all spent years protecting him but he would have been wasting his breath and their time, Dean's time. He turned away from Sam's accusing eyes, calmly put the car in drive and started moving again. "Get the map your girlfriend drew us. I don't want to miss that first turn."

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

The turn was easy to find. It was at the only intersection in the small town, but the garage proved a different story. Mother Nature had nearly reclaimed the dilapidated structure, vines and weeds obscuring the white block and smoky glass. If not for the old Exxon sign, hanging loosely from a rusted pole, they would have driven right past it.

"I can't believe Dean left Dad's baby here."

"It's more Dean's car than John's these days." Caleb opened the rental car door, stepping out in the pitch black parking lot.

"Dad trying to make up for running me off?" Sam got out of the car, hands propped on his hips. "He turned my care over to Dean when Mom died, so that makes sense."

Caleb shot him a look, but refused to rise to the bait. "That discussion is tabled until we find Dean." They both needed clear heads and senses.

"Fine by me." Sam strode past him, going to the first garage door. He rubbed his hand over the grime covered window, pressing his face against the cold glass. "I can't see anything."

Caleb kneeled down and grabbed hold of the bottom of the door, putting his legs into it as he lifted. The metal groaned and grated in protest but finally slid up, rolling into the rusted grooves above with a deafening clang. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on as Sam took a step into the darkened structure.

The Impala's black paint and chrome reflected the luminescence, sending a cold steel spike through Caleb's chest. Seeing the car brought home the fact that Dean was out there somewhere alone unable to make it back on his own. He faltered as Sam rushed forward. The younger man's hands brushed reverently over the trunk, and Caleb didn't miss the hushed greeting.

"Hey there, Old Girl." Sam looked at him. "Too bad Mac isn't here; he could find Dean using the Impala."

Caleb forced himself to move, making his way past Sam to look in the driver's window. Nothing out of the ordinary and he was relieved that at least Dean's prized possession was unharmed. "We can find him just as easy now that we know exactly where to look." The car's presence confirmed what Caleb feared. Dean had hiked to the mission in search of answers about the hum, but had got sidetracked along the way. Dean had spent two nights in the mountains, in God only knew what condition and it was Caleb's fault.

"What happened to not hunting alone? Why would Dean not wait on you?" Sam asked.

"Because Dean's not exactly 'Dean' these days," Caleb snapped before he could stop himself. He vowed he wouldn't give Sam the satisfaction of knowing just how much his leaving had affected his brother; how it had sucked the life out of his best friend until only a shadow of the Dean they knew remained. Dean had withdrew, but at the same time become more reckless, uninhibited in his hunting. He didn't give a damn either way if he lived or died.

"What do you mean he's not himself? Weren't you telling me back at the Dragonfly how he was on top of his game? Is there something going on I should know about?"

"The only thing you need to focus on at the moment is finding your brother." Caleb brushed past him, fists clenched at his side. "Let's go."

Sam grabbed his jacket sleeve, stopping him. "Wait. Do you sense something?"

"No,Sam, I'm not getting any kind of reading."

The teen bit his lip. "What about hearing? Have you heard anything like humming since we got here? Back at Stanford you said you felt some kind of presence, too."

"No." Caleb growled. "It only happened that once when I was at the art…" He roughly pulled away, moved out of the garage. "Never mind."

Sam followed behind. "You think you heard the humming when whatever happened to him…_happened _don't you?"

"I don't know, Sam! Just get in the damn car and drop it."

"What if it is the voice of God? That would explain the presence you felt…you said it wasn't like anything you've experienced before."

"Sam!" Caleb jerked the door open. "What part of drop it don't you understand? How is all this speculation and theorizing going to help Dean? We need to find him, that's the only thing we should be thinking about."

"Right. Because it's always about Dean."

"Fuck!" Caleb yelled. "Do you want to find your brother or not? Or is it like it seems and you really don't give a shit about him anymore?"

Caleb knew he was being cruel but his own guilt was compounded by the terrible helplessness tearing at him. He lashed out at the closest person to him.

"What?" Sam faltered. "I love my brother, nothing's changed that. Nothing ever could. I'm just trying to understand…"

"That makes two of us." Caleb interrupted before the teen could finish. "Except I've been working at it for six months."

Sam started at him for a long moment, their harsh breathing loud in the silent night. When Sam spoke, he barely contained the slight tremor in his tired voice. "Never mind. Now's not the time."

Caleb offered a half-hearted grin, running a hand through his hair. "Shit. Knowing Deuce's luck, he's probably fallen off the fucking mountain."

The teen snorted. "Or been captured by The Hermanos for some weird sacrifice ritual."

"Nah." Caleb shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they'd need a virgin for that."

Sam attempted to return the smile. For Caleb seeing the hint of dimples was almost as painful as finding the Impala. "Good thing Dean's luck actually runs the other way when it comes to women. He's as far away from a virgin as they could find."

"And Pastor Jim preaches that chastity is the way to save your soul." Caleb's grin widened as he got into the car. "Who knew Dean being a man whore would someday save his life."

"Yeah." Sam joined him. "Who knew?"

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

"Too bad big brother's charm with the ladies worked adversely for him this time." Sam blinked, his thoughts torn from the past by the unfamiliar voice and the cold chill that the malice-laced words brought.

He blinked again, his mouth going dry. Black eyes stared at him from Caleb's slack face. "Caleb?" The possession had taken place, much quieter and less spectacular than ridding a body of a demon. Sam wondered at how much of that was due to the amulet's power.

"I find it amusing that sex has such a hold over humans. You do follow your passions. "Caleb shot Sam a crooked grin that was nowhere near familiar. "Maybe we aren't so different, after all. But that's what you're worried about, isn't it Sammy?"

"Caleb!" Sam gripped the holy water in his hand. He reached out with his thoughts; found no dim connection like his fellow psychic predicted.

"Though not the brightest bulb, I have to say The Dark Knight has balls. I've been impressed with his efforts." Caleb rolled his head, his neck popping loudly. "And he's a fighter. With more practice he could be a formidable enemy…or ally. Perhaps he should have considered his amateur status before challenging me. I'm not one of the young ones he's tamed so easily."

"Who are you?" Sam demanded, sliding the Colt from the back of his jeans and pointing it at Caleb's chest.

"We both know you're not going to shoot me."

"Who. Are. You."

"I could be your savior if you allow."

"I don't need saving." Sam threw the holy water, feeling nauseous when Caleb's voice cried out in pain.

"Don't you?" The beast growled. Caleb had gone to his knees, but black eyes still glared at Sam. "Both of you are damned, just like your brother. Only by accepting what you are do you stand any chance of saving him. I can help you."

"We're going to save him." Sam was tired of promises from demon kind, sick of putting his faith in their help. From now on he was counting only on family. He threw more holy water, smoke rolled off Caleb's back as he curled in on himself.

Caleb cried out again, the sounds of anguish ending in raucous laughter. The demon looked at Sam, straightening as if his suffering had been mere acting, a depraved smile curling Caleb's lips once more. "Even now I feel the struggle in you, Young Skywalker."

Sam's finger tightened on the trigger of the Colt as the demon used Caleb's thoughts, their long-running Star Wars dialogue driving home just how much access the thing had to the other psychic's subconscious. For a brief agonizing moment Sam was cast back to the night when he held his father's life in his hands, along with The Yellow Eyed Demon's. So much suffering could have been avoided if he had just pulled that trigger, did as his father begged. Countless lives could have been saved, including his and thus ensuring Dean's soul.

"Sammy!"

The voice was Caleb's, but Sam didn't relax his stance, or lower the gun until the gold eyes locked with his gaze, and the familiar link assuring him his friend was once again in control shown through like a beacon. "Caleb?"

Caleb struggled to stand, keeping his hands braced on his knees. "It's me. I got it."

Sam started to step forward, breaking the trap, but Caleb straightened, lifting a hand to stop him. "Give me a minute to make sure. This son of a bitch knows what he's doing."

"A point we should have thought about." Sam growled, throwing the holy water to the ground, shoving the Colt back in his jeans. "I almost shot you!"

Caleb nodded. "Thanks for that."

"What?" Sam was incredulous. He was starting to shake, the adrenaline fleeing, leaving him only with the dark revelation about killing his friend to destroy the monster beneath. Sam couldn't even imagine trying to explain that to Dean. His brother already thought he was on his way to being dark side.

Caleb looked at him; rubbing his arm where Sam was sure the psychic's shirt hid the worst of the holy water burns. "I think the bastard knew you were about to do it. He might be a cocky fuck, but he wasn't ready to take any chances."

"That's all you've got to say? I almost put a bullet in your chest."

"The key word being almost." Caleb shrugged. "Would you rather I say I'm proud of you, Runt? I was holding back on that one because of the 'girl on the verge of crying' look you're currently sporting."

Sam needed no more proof that Caleb was truly 'Caleb'. "Fucking jerk!" He grumbled, kicking at the marks in the sand, effectively releasing the other psychic from the trap. "I hate this plan and at the moment I'm not too fond of you."

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's no picnic for me either." He met Sam's gaze. "But if it will make you feel better, you can take another swing at me."

Sam snorted. "And ruin your awesome high, I wouldn't dream of it." He studied the older hunter, frowned. "What happened to the Plasma TV and hi-def stereo system upgrade?"

"Having to use every ounce of psychic energy to keep the bastard stamped down takes some of the fun out of it." Caleb huffed. "But the power's there. I can fucking feel it."

Sam felt some of his anger and aggravation melt, replaced by concern. "Can you handle this, man? That thing said…"

"Forget what he said!" Caleb snapped.

Sam took a step back and Caleb ran a hand over his mouth, softening his voice when he spoke again. "Forget all of it, Sammy. He was doing what demons do best, turning our fears against us. It's like your dad used to say, fear is the direct path to defeat."

Sam's mouth twitched, despite the increased gravity of the already unbearable situation. "You sure that wasn't Yoda, dude?"

Caleb laughed, surprising Sam when he reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Could have been. Johnny, Sun Tzu, Yoda…they all start to blend together after a while."

"No wonder you're so fucked up." Sam patted his arm, moving away to retrieve the rest of their supplies.

"Yeah." Caleb rubbed at his neck. "But Sammy…"

Sam stopped, turning to look at the other man again. "Yeah?"

"Keep your connection to me open. Understand?"

Sam nodded. "You're coming through loud and clear."

Caleb held his gaze, touching his mind. _"And don't let the Colt out of your sight." _

"But…" Sam started.

"_Understand me?" _

Sam wanted to believe Caleb was right about whatever was lurking inside of him. It was all lies…all twisted insecurities. But that didn't explain the overwhelming sensation they were in need of salvation. Sam swallowed thickly, feeling the steel of the gun cold against his skin. _"I understand completely, Obi Wan." _

_RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

"What's Heaven like?"

Dean wasn't quite sure why that question sprang to mind when there were countless others he wanted to ask the former Guardian. Until his deal, Dean wasn't even sure he believed in an afterlife. He'd let himself hope his mother was somewhere better, Jess too. Dean was never a religious person, never one to jump on the bandwagon of angels and such, but if there was such a place as Hell, then maybe there was a Heaven. Not that he would get to see it, but he could take comfort in knowing his family would have a peaceful end.

Dean searched Jim's face, expecting to see perhaps surprise, wonderment, but not the sudden look of pain that shadowed the pastor's face. He wanted to withdraw the question, but Jim was already setting his pole aside, drawing his shoulders back. Dean heard him take a deep steadying breath, in his experience never a good sign.

"You're so sure I would know?"

"If you don't, then I'm not quite sure who would."

"I'm not the saint you boys seem to think I was."

"Close enough."

Jim looked off in the distance for a moment before focusing on Dean once more. "What makes you think this isn't Heaven?"

Dean frowned. "For one, you told me I wasn't dead." He managed a tremulous smile, hoping to erase some of the seriousness from the Pastor's gaze. "Then there's the part where I'm being tortured by demons as we speak. Definitely not the streets of gold, cherub on every corner kind of picture you painted over the years."

Jim scratched his head. "Is that the impression I gave you boys?"

Dean shrugged. "Caleb slept a lot, and Sammy usually sneaked a book in, but I actually listened on occasion when you forced us to go to church with you."

The pastor didn't smile. "I don't believe any scripture can quite define Heaven, Son. It's one of those concepts we can name but can't quite define or explain, top of the list along with love, faith and hope. "

Dean licked his lips. "But you've got firsthand knowledge now." He gestured to the lake. "This can't be it? Right?"

Jim leaned forward, his blue eyes never leaving Dean's face. "Do you feel safe here?"

"Yes." Dean swallowed thickly. "I always have."

"Was the farm like a home to you?"

Dean nodded. After his mother was killed the farm was the only place he knew.

Finally, Jim smiled. " You are at peace in a place where your heart feels at home and loved. That sounds better than any pearl studded gate and string harp serenade."

The pastor sat back, looking extremely pleased with himself. Dean smiled. "Isn't that blasphemy coming from a man of the cloth?"

"Hog wash." Jim waved the thought away with a derisive snort. "I've never liked that cookie cutter version of the after world. It has little imagination and makes no sense in the grand scheme of things."

"I'm not sure I understand…"

Jim ran a hand through his silver hair, only managing to scatter the wild silver strands in various directions of disarray. "Tell me about the best day of your life."

Dean arched a brow. "What?"

"Don't question." Jim patted his knee. "Just do as I say."

"You're starting to sound like Mac..."

Jim folded his arms over his chest and the young hunter recognizing a directive when he saw one. "I'm attempting to explain my earlier statement."

"It's impossible to narrow down to just one." He knew his justification wasn't playing when Jim only continued to stare at him. "Okay." Dean held up a hand in surrender. "But is this a PG moment in time or a late night HBO episode of my life, which I will definitely not share out loud with you?"

"Bring to mind a time when you were _truly_ happy, content and safe, not simply satiated by the pleasure of the body and I'm sure discretion on your part will not need to be an issue."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do, Skin Horse." Dean said, retreating to his nickname of Pastor Jim from the Velveteen Rabbit.

"Humor an old man."

"Fine." Dean grumbled halfheartedly. He had asked for it, after all. "When Sammy was born, or maybe his first steps."

"No." Jim shook his head. "This has to be about you. A stellar moment in the life of Dean Mathew Winchester."

Dean rolled his eyes at the pastor's tenacity. The qualifier made it a little harder, so many of Dean's best moments were wrapped up in his brother. Even now he could easily recall the sound of Sammy's first word, the day he walked him to the first day of kindergarten, even Sam's graduation from high school had been a red-letter day, though Dean had a good idea of what it was leading up to. "Okay. My sixth grade year, I was eleven and my baseball team took the title when I hit a home run, bringing two other runners with me."

"I remember that." Jim stroked his chin thoughtfully, a smile lifting the tension from his face. "In that little town of Greeneville. Mackland, Bobby and I all attended, along with Caleb's friends and his roommate, Elk."

Dean laughed. "Moose. And yeah, you were all there. Even Dad made it for the last two innings."

"Caleb and Sam instructed me to bring cow bells from the farm," Jim said. "And Bobby insisted we all go to Shoney's for dinner to celebrate even though Mackland nearly balked at the idea of eating from a buffet. He ranted about health hazards and substandard service until the very end when he inhaled nearly an entire strawberry pie."

Dean nodded. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd, his own cheering section embarrassingly loud. Sam, Moose and the rest of Caleb's college buddies even did the wave. "That was a great day."

"It was," Jim said.

Dean's hopes of the pastor's game being concluded were dashed when Jim leaned forward yet again. "What else?"

Dean sighed. "There was the day I got my ring," he offered. "That ranks up there."

Jim frowned at that. "If I recall, you were injured and in the hospital on that day."

"Still," Dean looked down at the shiny silver band. "I waited a long time for this baby." He flicked the circle with his thumb. "How many eighteen-year-olds earn the equivalent of a Super Bowl Championship Ring?" It had long since lost its sparkle.

"Not many, I imagine." Jim was quiet for a moment. "Aren't there any others that stand out, perhaps ones without so much drama?"

Dean shrugged. "My whole life has been pretty dramatic, Merlin."

"I know, but just try."

"Sam's sixteenth birthday."

The pastor started to hold up a finger, but Dean beat him to it, stopping his interruption with a shake of his head. "Not so fast. It's important to me for other reasons than Sammy being legit to drive."

Jim didn't seem convinced, but he gestured for Dean to continue. "Carry on."

"We had dinner at the farm." As Dean spoke the words, time seemed to magically fall away, taking his senses back to the moment he was recanting. "Do you remember? You made your famous fried chicken and apple pie, even though Caleb bought that huge cake."

"How could I forget _that_ cake." Jim groaned. "It was made to look like parts of well-endowed young woman's anatomy."

Dean grinned, not even thinking about the embarrassed expression on his little brother's face when he and Caleb had presented the pastry, complete with sprinkle-covered pasties. "The whole kitchen smelled like fried dough, simmering butter and cinnamon."

Jim nodded. "You boys insisted on that same meal, no matter what the occasion, and I never quite had the heart to deny your requests."

Dean's chest tightened as his memories wrapped around him as comforting as the heat of the sun seeping through his t-shirt. "It was a warm spring night, and you had all the windows open, the crickets and frogs at the pond in performance mode."

"Nature's serenade was by far preferable to any attempt by us to sing to Samuel."

"Then there was all the arguing."

Jim's brow furrowed, his smile fading as he seemed to try to recall the event as Dean was describing, but Dean continued to smile. "Only it wasn't Dad and Sammy battling it out."

"I see," Jim said.

"Mac and Dad were going at it over the latest Yankees and Sox game. Remember how they would get heated up every season?"

Jim nodded. "Oh yes. I remember quite well how Scholar and Knight could be. I once allowed them to watch a game at the farm and had to referee armed only with my authority as The Guardian and water hose."

"They weren't the only ones that night. Sammy and Caleb were about to come to blows over the last drumstick."

"I never did find a chicken with a third appendage, much to Samuel's chagrin. As you three grew older, and more apt to pound one another, I was tempted to cook two birds just to keep the peace."

"Even you and Bobby were sniping because he couldn't keep his hands off the dessert until you got it to the table. The dogs were the only ones not fighting about something."

"At least Scout and Harper Lee pretended at manners. Robert, on the other hand, felt no such need to keep up such pretenses. I swear the man was raised in the wild."

"Dad and Sammy ended up doing the dishes. I don't think they even argued over who was going to dry." Dean ran a hand over his mouth. "We all played cards, listened to Dad, Mac and Bobby talk about who screwed up what hunts. You even brought out some of your secret stash to toast the evening. One of the most normal nights I can remember us ever having."

Jim winked at him. "Sure sounds like Heaven to me."

Dean's own grin faltered, a sudden wave of sadness rushing over him as grim realization set in, stealing the happy time from his thoughts. "So Heaven is like going home, every perfect moment magnified. It's a place where nothing bad can hurt you and all the people you love are safe and together. That's why no one's idea of Heaven is the same."

"Yes." Jim's smile faded too, as he seemed to understand where Dean was heading. "That's exactly what I believe about Heaven. To me, it's the first snow fall of the winter, the first time I kissed Miss Emma, laughter drifting in with the smell of fresh mowed hay through the open window as you boys played at this very pond. Heaven is everything light and good and promising within each of us."

"Then Hell is the complete opposite." Mac had given Dean a file filled with research about the place, from countless theologians and theorists. None of it quite drove the idea home like understanding what Hell wouldn't be.

"Possibly," Jim said.

Dean ran a hand over his mouth. "I'll be as far from the farm and safety as possible…and every bad thing I've experienced or imagined will be multiplied to infinity."

"Dean…" Jim tried to derail his train of thought, but Dean had gone too far. He needed to say it.

"And I'll be alone, surrounded by those who hate me and want to hurt me. I'll never see my family again." He held Jim's gaze, despite the tear that escaped his wet lashes. "That sound about right to you, Pastor?"

Jim nodded slowly. "Yes, my boy. That definitely sounds like Hell to me."

RCJ


	7. Chapter 7

Edge of Winter 7

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, but unfortunately I have caught up with myself, meaning all the chapters I had written ahead are now posted and I'm scrambling to finish. A reason why one should not begin to post until the story is completed; at least that is the way of my wise beta, who has an annoying habit of being right, and always having her stories finished before she starts posting them. Of course I could blame her a little for pulling me into the epilogue to her next story, and the little project we've been working on to go along with it. It has been extremely taxing, only later will you fully grasp my sacrifice. And then there's the whole thing where she actually has a thriving business and career outside of all this free beta stuff. If it sounds like I'm shirking, really I'm not. It's worse. I'm stalling, hoping to finish up Chapter 8 before next week, or at least before the end of August. I'm kidding, I hope. Keep your fingers crossed.

_"Forgiveness is loyalty to the truth of who you are. To truly forgive someone is to recognize who they are, to admit and affirm who they are, and to know that their best selves will be brought out only in the presence of an accepting and believing person." Richard Roh_

RCJ

"Where the hell are we?"

Sam winced, flashing a quick look to Caleb as Bobby's rumbling timbre echoed from the backseat. The other psychic grinned, which tightened the knots in Sam's gut. They had left the river, turning off the bumpy road onto the main highway. "Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Sam took a deep breath. "We're in Tuscaloosa."

"Nice of you to finally join us," Caleb said.

"Damn. How long have I been out?"

Sam raised his gaze to the rearview mirror, watching as Bobby oriented himself. "A few hours." He gave a nervous laugh. "You must have really needed the sleep."

Bobby yawned widely, filling the back of the Impala as he stretched his frame. "If you two hadn't kept me up half the night with your nonsense…"

"There was a time when the legendary Bobby Singer could kick some demon ass on a catnap and a strong cup of coffee; now you're sleeping through complete states on the way to a hunt. Old age must be a bitch."

"Caleb…" Sam strengthened his hold on the Colt as he felt the weakening of the connection with the other psychic. "Cut it out."

Bobby clipped Caleb on the back of the head. "I'd advise you take your partner's advice and keep the comments to yourself, Junior."

Sam cut his gaze to Caleb. The older psychic turned to look out the window, but Sam caught the clenched fists, rigid jaw. He was fighting to stay in control. _"You okay?" _He wasn't good at the telepathic communication, wasn't even sure he had accomplished the task until he got the reply.

Caleb didn't face him and the response was too quick to ease Sam's worry. _"I'm good."_

"What's wrong with you two? Did something happen while I was out?"

"No." Sam met Bobby's gaze in the rearview mirror. "It's just been a long drive."

Singer snorted. "You both look like shit." He turned his appraisal to Caleb. "Especially you."

To Sam's relief when Caleb turned to face the mechanic, the forced smile was all his own. "Don't worry about us. We still have youth on our side."

"I hope that youth carries your ass through this job because we're going to have our hands full."

Caleb's grin turned feral. "I'm on the top of my game."

"Yeah." Bobby grunted. "Looks like it."

"Looks can be deceiving," Caleb said, cutting his eyes to Sam. "It's what's on the inside that counts."

Sam flinched at the wording so similar to Rose's earlier phone comments. He reached out again telepathically, taking momentary solace in the fact Caleb was still there. Bobby leaned forward, resting his arms on the seat between them and Sam shifted the Colt so it was hidden beneath his jacket. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Ethan called," Sam said. "We've got the name of the woman Rose hijacked."

Bobby turned towards him. "And?"

"Catherine Blake. Turns out she's a prominent chemical engineer from the university," Caleb said. "Her disappearance has caused quite a stir."

"Why body snatch a well-known academic? That doesn't sound very smart. Demons are smart."

"We know." Sam shot Caleb a look, worried they were underestimating just how intelligent their counterparts were. "We think Rose wanted to access Catherine's talents."

"I'm guessing you're not talking about the nice rack she used to peak your brother's interest."

"We think she intended to manipulate Dean into giving up the amulet's location, but now she's torturing Deuce using the good doctor's expertise."

"Rose would have her own bag of tricks for that," Bobby said. "As Ruby pointed out, demons are highly skilled in that area. They don't need manmade technology to make a man talk."

"But their ways maim and kill," Sam said. "We don't think Rose wants to let Dean off that easy."

"Meaning she has bigger things in store for him."

"For all of us," Caleb said. Sam fought off a shiver his friend's tone invoked.

"Did you get an address on this mad scientist broad?"

Sam cleared his throat, trying to focus on the dark road ahead. "We did, but we doubt if Rose will be hanging out there with the police involvement."

"Then what's our next step?"

"Ethan's going to check into Catherine's background, see if there could be a connection around town that Rose might utilize. I've researched the area for possible places and we thought…"

"That won't be necessary now," Caleb said. He leaned forward, opening the dash. He took out Dean's gun, and Sam felt for the Colt, unsure of what the older hunter was thinking. "I can find him."

"How?" Bobby demanded. "Your abilities don't work that way. That's more your Daddy's game. "

Caleb shrugged, holding the gun between his hands. He closed his eyes. "Rose isn't the only one who can access another's talents for her own purposes."

"What's he talking about?" Bobby demanded.

Sam hesitated, feeling the older hunter's eyes on him. He realized they were about to be busted. "Bobby…"

Caleb tilted his head, his brow wrinkling in concentration. "I see warehouses, a rundown business district perhaps. The Yellow-Eyed One's spawn is there."

"What the hell is going on?"

"Hush!" Caleb snapped, his eyes opening to reveal obsidian orbs. "Your droning on is not making this any easier."

Sam watched as Bobby jerked, sliding further into the backseat before his accusing gaze went from Caleb to the rearview mirror where Sam read the surprise and then disappointment in his eyes. "I'll be goddamned," he swore. Bobby stuck his hand in the inner pocket of his jacket, jerking out the heavy gold chain they had replaced the amulet with. It had a rhinestone studded dollar sign hanging from the end, giving it the weight they needed. "You boys fucking fleeced me."

"After they drugged you," Caleb said, casually. "Which could always be an option again if you can't hold your tongue, or possibly a gag would be sufficient."

If Sam hadn't still picked up the connection, albeit faint, with the other psychic he would have sworn the demon had taken over completely. The possession seemed to be some sort of symbiotic state, a strange mixture of both monster and Caleb. It would explain why the aftereffects of the possessions were so drastic.

"It won't be so easy that I'm on guard, you son of a bitch," Bobby said.

"I think you over estimate your abilities, hunter."

"And I think you underestimate Caleb, devil."

"On the contrary. I now know exactly what Caleb is capable of. I've gotten the grand tour."

Sam saw the flash of silver from Bobby's flask, the one without the whiskey and swerved the car into the emergency lane, shoving it into park. "Don't." He turned in his seat, holding up a hand to keep the mechanic from tossing the holy water. "Caleb's still in control."

"How the hell do you know that?" Bobby held the flask at the ready. "It sure doesn't sound like Junior."

"Trust me." Sam touched his head. "I feel him. But he has to give the demon some free reign to use his powers." At least Sam hoped that was all it was. Caleb should have explained the process better. Sam should have asked more specific questions.

Bobby slowly lowered his arm. "Like allowing a dog enough leash to perform the command you ordered?"

Sam slowly nodded, his gaze going to Caleb, where inky eyes blinked back at him. "Exactly."

Bobby kept his eyes on Sam. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine." Sam wanted to hear Caleb say that for himself, but realized the other psychic couldn't spare the energy it would take to offer a silent communication. Sam would have to trust him. It was a feeling that had always come naturally, one of those truths Sam had grown up counting on. It wavered only in his tumultuous teen years when the incident with the raw head and numerous other mishaps had Sam questioning everything he considered steadfast. Stanford had made it worse, reinforcing his skepticism and after the New Mexico hunt, Sam not only had misgivings about those closest to him, but more importantly began to doubt himself and everything he held sacred.

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

New Mexico

November 2002

"Do you believe in God?"

The question caught Caleb off guard. They'd been hiking for about an hour in silence, both of them concentrating fully in the darkness to keep from stumbling over their own feet despite the light cast from the flashlights and the half moon above. Sam didn't stop walking or even slow down after casting out the odd inquiry, but Caleb could feel him anxiously waiting for a reply unlike when Sam was a kid tossing out random questions without hesitation.

"Yes."

He was pleased when his quick, confident reply had Sam swinging his gaze in obvious surprise. "You do?"

Caleb slowed his pace, glancing towards the other hunter. "That such a shock coming from someone like me?"

Sam stopped, shaking his head. "Not really…" He shrugged. "Sort of."

Caleb took a break, lowering his flashlight, slipping his water bottle from his pack. If they were going to stop, he was going to take full advantage of it so there would be no need to waste time later. "Why?" He asked, taking a quick drink. "Because I revel in the life of sin so easily?"

"No." Sam shifted from one foot to the other. "I just assumed with all that happened in your past…I mean I know how Dad and Dean feel about Mom. They never talk about God. Only the bad things. The only time they go to church is if Jim guilts them into it."

Caleb offered the canteen to Sam. He understood to some John's only religion looked like revenge. Deuce was a different story; Dean had faith in his family. "My grandmother was a spiritual woman."

Sam took the water bottle, raising his brow at the simple explanation. "I thought she was into Hoo Doo and fortune telling?"

Caleb laughed. "She was. It was a family calling. But she also went to Mass because she thought the Catholic ceremony was beautiful, reverent. She'd drag me to baptisms along the river banks in the summer for the theatrics, and to tent revivals for the singing. We once celebrated Hanukah." He ran a hand over his mouth. "She couldn't give me much, but I think she wanted me to understand that there was something bigger than us out there, holding us together, even if she didn't know what exactly it was." He smiled wanly. "Like The Force."

Sam snorted, recapping the water bottle and tossing it back to Caleb. "So to you God is the Great Jedi Master in the sky?"

Caleb slid the canteen in his pack. "Maybe. I don't care so much about the specifics, as long as someone or something is out there on the top of their game, keeping score, and watching out for the good guys."

"Good guys like Dean?" Sam asked softly.

Caleb swallowed, holding Sam's dark languid gaze for a breathless moment before giving a sharp nod. "Dean most of all." He started walking again and Sam followed, but the silence seemed to be a thing of the past.

"Have you sensed anything from him yet?"

"No." He sighed deeply. "And I'm beginning to get a feeling there's a reason for that."

"What?"

The sharp catch in Sam's voice told Caleb that Sam had drawn the wrong conclusion. They both had done their fair share of that recently. "Not _that _reason, Runt. I know he's not dead."

"Then what the hell are you talking about?" Sam came alongside Caleb, their shoulders brushing on the narrow trail.

"Maybe this group has safeguards in place."

"Safeguards?" Sam huffed. "I'm not following."

Caleb took his gaze from the trail long enough to glance at Sam. "There are ways and reasons to keep a place protected from more than your run of the mill, nosy trespassing types."

"Some kind of spell?"

"Considering their Christian affiliation, I'm guessing these guys would prefer the terms blessing or consecration, but yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about. What if this brotherhood took precautions to keep any unsavory types out?"

Caleb could almost feel the wheels turning in Sam's head. "If you're right and there's some kind of protective barrier around their sanctuary, then it would stand to reason when we cross over it, you should be able to pick up on Dean."

"Or you will," Caleb said.

Sam stopped again, caught Caleb's sleeve forcing him to do the same. "Why do you keep insisting I can do that? I'm not psychic. I'm not like you."

"I know. You're nothing like me." Caleb pulled away, clenching his jaw at the obvious distaste in Sam's tone. The urge to tell Sam they were more alike than he imagined was as strong as it had ever been. Only his promise to John kept him quiet, and the nagging suspicion if Sam knew the truth it would drive him further away from hunting, from his family, from Dean. He took a calming breath. "Just don't shut out the possibility that your bond with Dean is strong enough to warrant a response. You might surprise yourself."

Sam finally nodded. "At least you didn't say 'Feel The Force, Luke'."

Caleb snorted as they both resumed their hike. "As if I would say something that cheesy."

"Of course not," Sam said. "What was I thinking?"

"I don't know, but I'm thinking we have to be getting close to this temple, and if that's true then..."

"Dean could be nearby."

Caleb nodded. "I'm guessing the grade continues to get steeper, and the trail narrower. The peak should be nearby. If Deuce lost his footing…"

Sam looked off to their right where the trail dropped off. Caleb read his thoughts. It didn't take much of an imagination to conjure the mountain face below them littered with rocky ledges and scattered jutting trees. He was thinking the same thing. "He could be down there somewhere."

"Let's keep moving." Caleb shoved aside the spike of fear so not to cloud his senses. "Focus on finding Dean alive and well."

"It's hard to concentrate," Sam said. "I can't focus."

"Try. That's all I'm asking." Even as Caleb said it he wondered if Sam would register something he couldn't, an act of desperation on his part. "Keep an open mind."

He should have told him to keep his eyes peeled too because ten minutes later Sam tripped, sprawling face first along the trail with a grunt and a curse.

"You alright, kid?" Caleb panned the flashlight in front of him, quickening his step to make it to Sam, ten yards ahead. The younger man was struggling to his knees, brushing rocks and dirt from his palms.

"Watch your step," he growled. "I tripped on something."

"Your enormous size twelves, maybe?" Caleb offered with a small laugh now that he was sure Sam was indeed okay.

"No!" Sam stood. "This."

Caleb shone his light on what Sam was holding. "I'll be damned."

"What?"

"I knew I brought you along for a reason. Your clumsiness paid off."

"What is it?"

"A Witch's Purse."

"You're joking, right?"

"No." Caleb took the burlap sack Sam held out. "I'm not. This is some serious Hoo Doo. These guys aren't messing around."

"It's an old burlap sack."

"Said the guy who believes in dream catchers. It's not a fashion statement. Think mojo bag just on a much larger scale. The magic's inside." Caleb shoved the flashlight towards the teen and tore at the twine, dumping the contents on the ground beside them. "I've seen my grandmother make them."

"Gross." Sam stepped back as some sort of animal bones and rocks fell to the ground, and a plume of ash billowed up from the carnage. "What is that?"

"Lots of things." Caleb knelt down digging through the mess. He picked up what looked like an animal femur bone and tossed it aside, lifting a handful of smooth stones. "Snowflake obsidian and blood stone." He glanced up at Sam. "Explains the psychic dead zone. The rest is herbs and other shit, depending on what else they wanted to keep out. It all adds up to one hell of a security system."

"But these men are from the church."

"Pagan rituals are heavy in a lot of religions. All of it leads back to the same place and not all magic is dark magic." Caleb stood, pointing his flashlight to one of the tree limbs. "I bet it was hanging up there."

Sam followed his gaze. A rope swung in the wind. "You think Dean took it down?"

"I think it's a good bet." Caleb picked up The Witch's Purse, pointing to the remnants of twine. "He might not have known what it was, but the rope has been cut clean through." Caleb dropped the bag, kicking the remnants away and stepping past them. "Now maybe we can get somewhere."

The words had no sooner left his mouth than he felt the psychic punch, a line to Dean zinging to awareness. He brought his hand to his head as feelings flowed in like water from a faucet. Deuce was nearby and in trouble. Fear as well as pain came through the link loud and clear, stealing his breath.

"Caleb." Sam touched his arm, grounding him. "What's wrong?"

Caleb blinked, took a shaky breath. "He's here."

"Dean? You feel him now?"

Caleb nodded. "Come on." He didn't have his father's talents for search and rescue, but he could use his telepathy like a metal detector, the intensity of feeling like the machines beeps would grow stronger the closer he came to whomever he was connecting with. Caleb used it to hunt the baddies that connected with him in visions and it never had hurt in a game of hide and seek when they were younger. "Deuce is close by."

Sam didn't hesitate or ask any more questions as they stumbled along the trail towards the peak. Only after Caleb stopped at a sharp angle in the path and kneeled in the dirt, did Sam speak. "What? Is this it?"

Caleb held up a hand to silence the younger man as he lay down on his belly and inched his way to the edge of the trail, hanging his upper body over the vegetation-covered side. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled, "Dean! Can you hear me? Dean!"

He felt Sam drop beside him, lending his voice to Caleb's. Soon they were both screaming into the darkness, panning their lights through the thick forest below. He wasn't sure his senses were holding true until Sam's hand found his forearm again, squeezing hard.

"Did you hear that? I thought I heard something."

Caleb cocked his head to the side, straining to locate any sound beyond nature's cacophony. It was faint, muffled but the word help was distinguishable, carried to them from somewhere below. Most importantly, it was Dean's voice. "Deuce, hang in there man. We're on our way."

"It's a sheer drop. We're going to have to repel down there," Sam said.

"Good thing I wasted my money on all that equipment I bought at The Holy Trail." Caleb wasn't above tossing Sam's words back at him with a small amount of satisfaction.

Sam snorted. "You would think you're psychic or something."

Caleb grinned, unable to fight off the immense relief at finding Dean alive and although hurt, at least conscious and able to respond to them. "For being a smart ass, you're setting the anchor and going first."

He dropped the last two feet to the ground, unclipping his carabineer from the rappelling line. Sam released the main rope, and Caleb quickly slipped out of his harness. He glanced up the rock face they had descended, marveling at Deuce's ability to find trouble. If the kid was on this first ledge he'd still taken a hell of a fall and was damn lucky Fate had seen fit to place such a large outcropping to keep him from going any further. The landing would not have been pleasant.

"Any signs of him?"

Sam shook his head, looking around. "This ledge extends for a ways. I'm willing to bet there are caves here."

Caleb picked up the first aid kit they had lowered down before them. He'd left his pack up top incase he needed to piggy back Dean out of there. "Like that fucking mountain Johnny had us repel a few years back."

Sam met his gaze, his face twisted with unpleasant memories. "Black Rock at Joshua Tree where I got to be the belay slave. Loads of fun."

Caleb shrugged, turning his flashlight on and edging past Sam. "In your old man's defense, he didn't know the electrical storm would blow in. Those deep caverns saved our asses."

"Let's hope Dean has the same dumb luck as Dad."

Caleb didn't reply, instead calling out for his friend as they moved forward. Dean's name echoed around before a weak 'in here' was heard.

Sam and Caleb both picked up their pace, careful of stumbling in the dark and plummeting from the ledge. "There!" Sam pointed his flashlight along the side of the mountain, where a sharp overhang jutted from the facing like a sun visor. "At least he found shelter." The rocks looked as if they were scooped out, enough of a shallow cave to offer some protection from the weather and a respite from the ledge

"Dean," Sam yelled as they made it to the mouth of the grotto. Caleb stepped over the remnants of a long dead campfire, marveling at Dean's ingenuity in a crisis. The temperature in the mountains at night had to hover around twenty degrees with usual snowfall. Caleb was beyond thankful for the warm spell that had people wearing t-shirts far beyond the typical November season. Still, it worried him that Dean was unable to maintain a heat source for the entire time he'd been stuck.

"Damien?"

The familiar nickname had Caleb's heart racing as he panned his light around the cavern. Dean was huddled against the furthest wall, his upper body covered with his jacket, and a space blanket.

"Deuce." Caleb felt the younger man's pain stronger now, pouring off his friend in waves. He mentally pulled back as the intensity threatened his ability to stay clearheaded.

"Dean."

He and Sam reached him at the same time with Sam going to his knees beside Caleb. They both turned their flashlights up to sit, lantern-like on their ends, illuminating the small space. Dean looked pale and sickly in the garish yellow glow. He was shivering beneath the covering, his skin glistening with sweat, but when his gaze found Caleb's his green eyes held recognition, even if his voice was raspy and weak. "About damn time you showed up."

Caleb laughed in relief, reaching out to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's good to see you too, Deuce." He glanced around the area, noting the empty water bottles and crumpled bag of M&M's. "Looks like you had rations to wait me out."

"Dean," Sam said. "Where are you hurt?"

Caleb frowned when the older Winchester didn't even look at his brother. "I knew you'd take your time, Damien…but I started to worry you'd met a woman along the way when the last of the water was gone last night."

"No broads before Brotherhood, Dude." Caleb glanced to Sam who continued to stare anxiously at Dean. "We got here as soon as we could. It wasn't exactly like you left us a note or anything as blatant as a trail of bread crumbs."

Dean closed his eyes, with a groan. "We? Please tell me you didn't drag Dad into this."

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked.

Caleb didn't miss the accusing tone, but held off on snapping back because of the hurt he could see reflected in Sam's dark gaze. He moved his hand to Dean's forehead, leaning closer to get a better look. The kid was burning up. "Dean, Sammy's with me. He's right here."

Dean blinked, surprise registering on his pinched features as he struggled to push himself up. "You can see him? Hear him?"

"Easy. Don't move." Caleb kept a hand on his chest. "Of course I can see and hear him."

Dean gave into the restraint, panting at his exertion. His eyes locked on Sam. "You're here? For real?"

Sam lifted a hand, rested it against his brother's face. "Of course I'm real. What did you think I was?"

"A ghost…my imagination," Dean said. He frowned, licking his dry lips. "You've been here before…the first night, and this morning…but you kept leaving."

Sam shook his head. "I've been with Caleb. I wasn't here."

"I know…I was alone."

"It doesn't matter." Caleb didn't like the sound of Dean's voice or the way he was trembling. Never mind the stab of guilt his words brought. "We're here now."

"Where are you hurt?" Sam repeated his earlier question.

"I fell," Dean said. "Fucking bear scared the shit out of me and I took one step too many…How did you get here, Sam? Why are you here?"

Caleb's worry grew. Dean wasn't as cognizant as he first thought. "We kind of gathered that you didn't climb down here for some solitude, kiddo. What we don't know is what suffered in the landing. You're not lucky enough to have landed on your head, which is like reinforced steel."

Dean looked at him. "I slid more than fell." He lifted one arm, making the act look like a feat of sheer will. The appendage was littered with abrasions and small cuts. "All of me looks like this, only worse." His gaze returned to his brother. "What about school?"

"Don't worry about that right now," Sam said.

"But your classes…you said you were busy."

"It's okay. Really."

Caleb carefully ran his finger over a nasty-looking cut on Dean's forehead, prodding the huge lump, before gently grasping his chin to study the younger hunter's green gaze. Nothing looked too serious. Dean's pupils were normal and the cuts had stopped bleeding on their own. "What kept you from climbing your ass out of here?" Dean was no Gumby; he was proficient in climbing because John considered it a life skill.

"Busted some ribs." Dean closed his eyes. "Broke my fucking leg, Damien."

"That sounds about right." Caleb sighed, gently sliding his hands along Dean's ribs and abdomen, ignoring the whimper his touch brought. "Any neck or back pain?"

Dean winced. "Nothing that kept me from crawling in here." His eyes went to Sam again. "Does Dad know you're here, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. "I came for you."

Dean exhaled heavily. "It's so fucking good to see you, little brother."

Caleb picked up one of the flashlights, ignoring the worried look Sam was giving him. He moved to examine Dean's legs. "Which one, Deuce?"

Dean waved him off. "I don't remember. You'll figure it out."

Caleb panned the light across his friend's jean-clad legs, swearing as he saw the blood-stained denim of Dean's left leg. "Shit."

"Caleb?" Sam said.

"You can't do anything the easy way, can you?" Caleb put down the lantern, removing the knife from his ankle sheath. He already knew what he was going to find before he sliced the material. The open fracture explained the fever. They were damn lucky the puncture that was in the Dean's calf hadn't hit any arteries. Dean could have bled to death.

Despite the care Caleb took not to jostle the broken appendage, Dean cried out when he tried to get a better angle of the wound. "Sorry, kiddo."

"How bad?" Sam asked.

Despite Dean's half-delirious state he must have picked up on the same fear Caleb detected in Sam's voice. "It's okay, Sammy," he panted. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Sam said. "You're nowhere in the vicinity of fine, Dean."

"Sam," Caleb warned, also picking up on the familiar anger laced in the teen's tone. He knew Sam was scared, worried. It was never easy seeing Dean out of his element. He was the strong one, the one who kept it all together for Sam over the years, more parent than John most days. Caleb kept his voice calm, despite the fact his own concern had notched up. "We need to get him out of here. ASAP."

Sam's head whipped, his glare pinning Caleb. "What's wrong?"

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth, sitting back on his haunches. "Compound break. Few centimeters of bone poking through the back of his leg."

"Shit." Caleb watched Sam's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Infection?"

"Probably."

"But that means…"

"Damn bear," Dean said. "Smokey…has it in for me."

Caleb looked down the length of his friend's body. "I can use part of your pack's metal frame for a stabilization splint before we risk moving him out of here. There's some morphine in Mac's bag." Dean didn't appear to have a concussion, but the high fever was tricky. The pain the move would cause could increase the chances of shock, so they would have to take the risk and use the drug.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Sam made to stand.

"No." Dean caught his hand, clung to it. "Don't go, Sammy."

"It's okay." Caleb nodded to Sam. "Stay with him. I'll get what we need."

"Damien…" Dean's panicked gaze locked on him.

"Nobody's leaving without you." Dean blinked, relaxing against the cave floor where he continued to shiver. Caleb slipped out of his jacket, adding it to the blanket and Dean's coat. "We're going to get you warmed up and then off this fucking mountain."

Dean licked his lips. "Ran out of things to burn."

Caleb shook his head. "What? You didn't gather fire wood before taking your two day siesta? Good way to lose that Boy Scout merit badge."

Dean tried to laugh but it broke on a gasp of pain. "Don't tell Dad I was laying down on the job…don't tell Dad anything."

Caleb noticed Dean hadn't released the death grip on Sam's hand and the youngest Winchester was looking almost as pale as Dean. "My lips are sealed, Dude. But why don't you get Sammy to tell you about his hot girlfriend he's been hiding at Stanford. It's no wonder he hasn't asked you to visit. The girl's so out of his league."

"Jessica?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "You remembered her name?"

"I remember everything," Dean said.

Caleb stood. Dean had told him about the one and only phone call from his brother. That six minute call had had given Dean more hope than Caleb had been able to inspire in six months.

"Damien said you'd come back, Sammy."

Dean's words carried to Caleb as he made fast work of gathering what he would need. Bone infections were deadly, taking life or limb, sometimes both. He wouldn't let that happen.

Sam hesitated. "I'm always here if you need me."

"I wasn't so sure…. that night you left…the things Dad said."

Caleb jerked the framing free with more force than necessary. Dean believed Sam was through with their family that first night after his brother left for Stanford. Caleb worked hard to keep Dean's mind occupied afterward, waiting for Sam's call that never came.

John allowed his son to grieve Sam's leaving for three days before he showed up in New York, hung over and more determined to drag the one son he could control back into the fray. Caleb argued Dean didn't have to leave; maybe he should stay with him for while, or even better go see Sam to set his mind at ease. Dean, desperate to hold onto the last remnants of his battled ravaged family, had gone with his father. That night began the six month roller coaster ride that brought them to this point, this disastrous crash site that left Dean mangled.

"You asked her out?"

"Yeah. I took your advice."

"How much you want to bet he came home with another rodent from that first date, Deuce?" Caleb asked. He was referencing the time they had sent Sam off with a girl from The Red Caboose, thinking he would lose his virginity. The kid hadn't come back with a juicy story to tell, but with a damn hamster in a cage. He knew Dean would get a kick out of the memory with the added bonus of pissing off Sam.

"Shut up," Sam said. "At least I didn't come back with something I had to treat with penicillin."

"Now, now…" Dean chided. "Don't make me separate you two."

Caleb scooped up the metal and Mac's old doctor's bag, making his way back to the Winchesters where he knelt across from Sam, Dean between them. "We could have used you as referee a few hundred miles ago, Deuce."

Sam met his gaze. "I don't see how you put up with him. He's a pain in the ass."

"I'm usually drunk…"

"So much for loyalty." Caleb dug through the medical bag. "Just remember I'm holding the good drugs."

Dean closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Drugs… sound good."

Caleb filled the syringe, trying not to think about the fact Dean usually refused the hard stuff. He'd give him enough to knock him out. "I could have used some of this having to listen to Sammy go on and on about school and shit."

Sam snorted. "Better than his outright lies about all the ghouls you two have slain and women you've conquered since I've been gone."

"All true," Caleb said.

Dean gave his brother a half grin. "At least the parts about me."

"You might have to step your game up a notch, Deuce." Caleb swallowed the bile at the back of his throat, pressed the plunger to clear any air. "After meeting the lovely Jessica, I think our little Sammy might have finally hit his stride. He could give you a run for your money."

Dean looked up at his little brother. "I…need to meet this girl."

Caleb took advantage of his distraction. Quickly swabbing the inside of Dean's elbow with alcohol, he injected the medicine. Dean turned, giving him an accusing glare. "No fair."

"You'll thank me in a minute." Caleb ran his hand over Dean's hair. "I'll be the one bitching when I have to haul your heavy ass out of here."

Dean's eyelids fluttered. "You said he'd come back."

"Don't sound so surprised." Caleb took his eyes from his best friend long enough to meet Sam's gaze. "There are some things I'm always right about."

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Sam wanted to believe Caleb had been right about the amulet, but he was afraid he'd made a huge mistake in going along with the plan. Sure the psychic had led them to the warehouse district, on the opposite end of town from where Catherine Blake resided. He'd made easy work of detecting several demonic sentries stationed at strategic areas to prevent their undetected arrival. But he'd also shown little regard for the lives of the innocent humans ensnared by the demonic presences.

Sam blamed it on Caleb's wavering control over the demon. He could sense his friends struggle, but he could also detect Caleb's primal urge to find Dean at all costs. Sam felt the same tug, but wasn't battling with an entity that thrived on hatred and fear. Sam could control himself enough to still see the line in the sand. He wasn't so sure Caleb could be trusted not to leap over it.

Obviously Bobby felt the same way. "Drop her now, Caleb. Let her go!"

He kept one hand on Caleb's sleeve, the other drawn back wielding the flask.

"Fine." Caleb flicked his wrist dismissively and the woman who had been breathlessly writhing against the wall dropped to the ground unconscious as a black plume of smoke rushed from her slack mouth. "But she would have alerted Rose, same as the other one."

"There are other ways to stop these bastards without killing the host, as you well know."

"Ways that take time and energy." Caleb grinned. "Time Deuce can't afford and energy Caleb doesn't have."

Bobby growled. "You kill anyone and I will send you back to hell myself. I have the exorcism memorized you unholy beast. Don't push me."

"That wouldn't be pretty as long as we're still wearing the amulet."

"Caleb's prepared to do what's necessary," Sam said, pointing the Colt at his friend. "Don't think for a minute I'm not."

"We're close to Dean. I can feel his suffering stronger now. Do you really want to risk his rescue by playing nice?"

Sam licked his lips. He'd felt twinges of the link to Dean flickering off and on like a light bulb about to blow, leaving Sam filled with a dark foreboding. He suddenly remembered the look on Dean's face after he shot the possessed man who was beating Sam to death during the botched rescue of their father from Meg. The heartfelt confession his brother had made about what he was capable of when it came to his family.

Sam lowered the Colt. "Do what you have to."

"Damn it, Sam!" Bobby swore.

Then the animal-like scream pierced the quiet around them. The sound of it both answered prayer and worst fear. It set Sam's nerves on fire, Caleb's reaction doubling the intensity, threatening to send Sam to his knees under its weight. The echo of pain tore through the night once more, slicing Sam to his core. He clasped one hand over his heart and struggled to reclaim his stolen breath. "Oh, God. Dean."

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Dean watched as Jim put away the fishing gear, their earlier discussion of Heaven and Hell ending the pastor's pursuit of the perfect catch. It hadn't helped Dean's mood either, or his growing headache. He looked up at the sun, the blazing orange ball taking up more than its usual share of the azure sky. He blamed it for the heat that had been increasing incrementally and the sweat beading along his upper lip. Even the water was too warm as he dipped his hands in, intent on splashing his face. He pulled his fingers from the lake with a disgruntled sigh, shaking the drops from them. When his gaze returned to Jim, the pastor was no longer packing but watching him.

"Are you alright, my boy?"

"Just a little warm." Dean offered a weak smile, and used the back of his arm to wipe the perspiration from his brow. The truth was he felt like shit. "I could use some of your sweet tea. Or maybe you could sculpt us an air conditioner or fan out of silver?"

Jim's worry wavered behind a quick smile. "I can manage the tea. There are some advantages to this new life."

So excited by the promise of relief, Dean didn't even voice his wonder at how Jim's picnic basket worked. The pastor lifted the lid and produced a tall glistening glass of amber liquid complete with slices of lemon floating on top.

"If you could go back to your old life, to one specific moment and change it, would you?"

Jim stowed the basket beneath his feet, taking his time in meeting Dean's gaze. "Another impossibly hard question. You're full of them today."

"It's not that hard." Dean took a long sip of the cool drink, sighing in sweet memory. "Either you would or you wouldn't, Merlin."

"I had a good run at it, a long, fulfilled life."

"That's cheating. You're redirecting."

"I would be tempted," the pastor said, finally. He picked up the oars and dipped them in the water. "How about you? Would you change things?"

"I used to believe I would." Dean held the cool glass to his head. "I thought I knew exactly what I would change."

Jim leaned into his starboard stroke, and Dean noted he was angling them towards the shore. "Your mother. Of course you would want to save her. Anyone who has loved that deeply and lost would have the same wish."

Dean tightened his grip around the glass. "Funny you should use that word…wish."

"Why is that?" Jim slowed his rowing and Dean wondered at the pastor's sudden desire to reach land.

"I got my wish granted…at least for a little while." He took another drink, wincing as the cold liquid burned his parched throat, the taste of regret marring his palette. "An unexpected visit with a genie gave me a glimpse."

"A djinn," Jim said knowingly. He focused his intense blue gaze on Dean. "And was it all that you hoped?"

Dean got the distinct impression Jim already knew the answer to that question. "I think you already said be careful what you wish for. I got more than I bargained."

"Sparing your mother's life didn't right all the wrongs since her death?"

"No. Some things changed for the worse." Dean set the empty glass on the bench beside him, remembering his time caught within the nightmare, which was suppose to be the answer to all his prayers. "She got to watch me and Sam grow up, spend a lot more years with Dad but…"

"But what?"

"Dad was still dead. We sure weren't a family. Sammy and I were so different, more strangers than brothers. Hell, we didn't even like each other."

Jim nodded. "Tragedy often changes the people we become, sometimes for the better. It can bring us closer to those around us, help us appreciate things we might otherwise take for granted."

"I wasn't a very good guy in that life…I wasn't a good brother to Sam."

"I'm sure you were merely different than the Dean we know and love today. You lived a different life, had different experiences. There was no need for you to be a surrogate parent to your brother with both your parents still alive and capable."

Dean shook his head at the pastor's optimism. "I would have stayed there though, worked on things with Sammy, made it right. I wanted Mom to be alive, to see her grandchildren."

"What changed your mind?"

It was a good question. One Dean had pondered on a few long nights since then. "I saw a news report about a plane crash that Sam and I had stopped. All those people dead because we weren't there to protect them." Dean remembered the anguish that welled up inside him, the guilt of so many lives lost because of his choice.

"Many, many lives have been saved by your family."

Dean licked his lips. "It got me to thinking about what else I had changed, so I did some research." A part of him wished he had never looked. It was like opening Pandora's Box. "I searched for people that Dad had saved over the years, ones that Sammy and I had saved. All I found were obituaries, stories of their deaths. All the good we'd done had disappeared. Erased as if we never existed."

Jim stopped rowing, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "As hunters you didn't exist. Saving your mother changed that. It must have been a terrible fact to accept in light of having your deepest desire delivered to you."

Dean looked at him, twisting the silver ring on his finger as he remembered the other research he'd done, the answers that had driven him to the graveyard in anger to confront his dead father. "I looked for you and Caleb. Bobby and Mac."

Jim didn't seem surprised. "I take it we were not living your definition of happily ever after?"

"You were gone. Everybody was gone." Dean slammed his fist on the bench seat, sending the glass skittering along the bottom of the boat. "It wasn't supposed to be that way. Mom was supposed to be fine, Dad was supposed to still be alive. We were all going to be a family again. I never thought about the rest of it."

Jim slowly reached down and picked up the empty cup, rolling it between his hands. "There is nothing wrong with wanting that dream, Son. You weren't being selfish, only human. Sometimes it is hard to see the forest for the trees when you are merely a small leaf."

"But it was wrong," Dean choked. "I was with Mom. Sammy was with Jess but every other goddamn thing I cared about was shot to Hell." He wiped his eyes. It was like his deal for Sam. He wondered if the time with the genie had been a warning. "You, Mac and Bobby were killed in a fire at the church that Christmas after Mom was supposed to have died. Caleb was blamed for it; tried as a minor and put in some fucking mental institution for the criminally insane where he died mysteriously in the basement of the facility. One guess who was behind that?"

Jim sighed. "Daniel Elkins no doubt."

Dean ran a hand over his mouth. "It didn't take a genius to figure out who had probably taken over The Brotherhood after you were gone."

"Griffin, if I had to wager."

Dean glared at the preacher. "How can you be so calm about it? Did you just not hear the part where I said you, Bobby and Mac were offed by The Yellow-Eyed Demon and Caleb was murdered by vigilante hunters?" It was a cruel twist of fate.

"I realized long ago the impact a single life can have on a multitude of futures. Imagine if Martin Luther King had never been born, or if Hitler had died as a child."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Jim returned the glass to the basket then braced himself on his knees. "It means that an individual can make a world of difference in the grand scheme of things." The pastor's eyes softened. "Especially if that person is someone like you, Dean."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose where a white hot pain had blossomed from the small twinges. "You can't really expect me to believe that I changed all those things, kept all that bad shit from happening."

"I believe your mother's death, however horrific and tragic, started a series of events that led your family to become a part of The Brotherhood, and in doing so, forged three brave warriors that would save countless strangers as well as those who would become your new family. Mary's legacy is not merely one of bloodshed and loss, but one beyond anything she could have imagined had she lived the life you hoped. Your father, you and Samuel have all made an amazing impact in this world, as will her grandchildren and their children."

"But why did she have to be sacrificed for the greater good? You taught me that every person is important; one life is as valuable as a hundred lives. I've held to that all these years, lived my life by that rule. Now you're saying that she had to die for all those other people to live. How can both things be true?"

"I can't answer that question anymore than I can the one of why Caleb was forced to watch his parents slaughtered, Sam made to witness Jessica's torment or why Robert had to take the life of the one he loved most. Those answers are beyond me, even in this new place." Jim pointed a finger at him. "I wish I could tell you all that you need to hear, to take away all your fears; but that was never in my power, nor is it now."

He leaned forward as if about to tell Dean a great secret. "But if there was one thing I would wish to go back and change I would go back and protect you, your brother and Caleb from the losses you endured, from the pain you are most assuredly yet to suffer at the hands of our enemy. I would forsake your destiny, cheat you of the men you will become and in turn rob the world of the greatness you three will bring to it." He released one paddle, reaching up to rest a hand against Dean's cheek. "Don't you see? In my ignorance, in all my human naiveté I would deny my own time with you, unknowingly refusing the blessing of loving you three."

"Is this your whacked out way of telling me I can't have my cake and eat it too?" Dean huffed. "Or maybe that life isn't fair?"

Jim dropped his hand, reclaiming the oar with a raucous laugh. "Oh yes, my boy. That is exactly what I have been trying to tell you. Both those things." The pastor began to row towards the shore once more. "In fact, **that** is the secret to life, I think. You've figured it out. Our time here is done."

And even though it was said in jest, Dean feared it was true. "Is that why you're heading for shore? Are you leaving?"

Jim faced him, all traces of levity gone. "No. I believe it is you who will be going."

Dean snorted. "To Hell."

Jim frowned. "That is not set in stone."

"And if I do go…is it going to be like with the genie? Are all the good things I did going to be erased? Are the people I love going to die because of my choice? Am I leaving them vulnerable?"

Without Jim even attempting to answer, Dean knew the truth. The pastor had no answers for him. Dean felt the trail of sweat as it trickled into his eye, burning and blurring his vision. "It's getting hot out here."

Jim continued to row. "I think our demon friend has grown impatient."

"I'm getting weaker?"

"You are succumbing to her methods. Yes."

"That can't be good."

"You will get better at this." Jim rowed harder. "In time, you'll be able to maintain this sanctuary for days, perhaps weeks."

"Why would I need to do that?"

Jim continued to row. "Never fear. Caleb and Samuel are close. Your suffering will not last much longer."

"This time." Dean continued to look at Jim even though the pastor was staring past him, concentrating on the large oak by the pond. Dean blinked, noticing the two shadowy figures that had appeared at its base.

"Atticus and Scout," he said. Dean rubbed more sweat from his eyes, hoping to sharpen the dog-like forms, to lay eyes on his old friends.

"No, my boy."

The tone of Jim's voice had Dean focusing on the pastor again. He yelped when something hot splattered across his bare arms. Water.

Dean hissed as he was splashed again. "What the …" The lake was churning….boiling around them. He whipped his head up, his gaze going to the tree once more. Two sets of red eyes met his from twisted , snarling, snapping lupine faces. "Hell hounds?"

"Your imagination, son. Reality bleeding over. Nothing more," Jim said, gently. "Ignore them."

Dean gestured to the roiling pond, lapping at the boat's edges. "And this?"

"What it's always been. A part of you. The water is yours, not theirs. They can't harm you here."

"Shit." Dean's thoughts were as agitated as the pond around them as he fought to gather some of the pastor's calm. "What should I do? How…how do I fix it?"

Jim stopped paddling, letting their vessel drift now. Dean felt panic encroaching as the bottom of the boat grated against ground. "You don't." Jim reached out, caught his hand, holding it tightly. "You ride it out."

"What?"

"Sometimes the Lord calms the storm, and sometimes he lets the storm rage and calms his child."

"Really?" Dean pulled away, bringing both hands to his head where the pounding was demanding to be acknowledged. "You're quoting Bible verse now?" The vessel rocked beneath him, and Dean worried they'd be thrown into the water and boiled alive.

Cool hands encircled his wrists. "We must say goodbye for now." Jim's soft voice broke through the pain.

"No." Dean shook his head, dread exploding to terror. He wanted to conjure his typical devil may care bravado; but old fears raised their ugly head, digging at his weaknesses. "Don't leave me alone. Please!"

Jim held tighter, pulling Dean's hands away from his head, clasping them together within his. "I'll be here when you need me most, my boy. I promise you."

"I'm sorry," Dean choked, squeezing his eyes tighter, hoping to lock out the inevitable. He felt foolish, like a child. He was stronger than this, would handle it like a man. But the pain that was seeping through his defenses chided otherwise. Dean wondered at its power and what Hell would be like in comparison."I know I caused all of this…I let everybody down. I'm sorry…"

"What you did, you did out of love." Jim lifted Dean's chin so the younger hunter's eyes met his soothing blue gaze. "Where there is love that great, there are always miracles."

Jim smiled. "Next time, we will work on all those Guardian matters I failed to tend to in my old life. Your training will begin."

"Training?" Dean dug his fists into his jeans, trying to deflect the stinging sensation now rippling through his body . "What happened to fishing?"

"We'll save that for Sundays. Unless our ox happens to be in a ditch."

Dean struggled to keep his voice steady. "We don't have any damn ox, Old Man."

"Exactly." The pastor patted his face. "Great bass and catfish beware." Jim released him and stood. He picked up the picnic basket, slipping his straw hat on his head. "Be brave, my boy."

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Dean came to with a gasp, his body convulsing against the restraints holding him down. A scream filled his ears, and it only took a moment to realize it was his own voice and what had prompted it. Fire engulfed his body, burning away any cognizant thought of where he was or why. Pain was this new world he had awoken in. "SAM!"

RCJ


	8. Chapter 8

Edge of Winter 8

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Oh my. If I could only log the dialogue that flowed between me and Tidia about this chapter, we're talking hours of phone calls, emails…and then there were the additions Mog made and the read throughs that Tara did. That was before all the rewrites, and there were several. If there are any Prison Break fans out there, you may remember the season one episode in which they put Michael in solitary confinement and he no longer realizes what in the heck he's going to do and the mini-melt down follows…let's just say, I put my blood into this plan… I mean part. Was it painful…extremely. For Tidia,too, I'm sure and Mog, who I dragged into help me. They both made this piece much better. Special thanks to Tidia who convinced me to leave the zombie out, although we've found a place for him in In Victus. Only Tara understands what she rescued you guys from. ;-) I hope it was worth it and that the long length makes up for me being a week late in posting. Only one chapter to go, and then we're on to Marked Time. We should catch up to the show, sometime in October. ;-) I hope you all are still along for the ride.

Author's Advisory: Just a little note that this chapter contains several scenes of violence. It is a darker work dealing with an intense subject matter, and thus the typical character reactions are darker for it.

RCJ

"_Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hate. It is a power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness."_

_-William Arthur Ward _

Taos, New Mexico

November, 2002

Caleb paced six steps, turning to take six more steps before the confines of the room forced him to spin around again, his boots squeaking against the bruised linoleum floor. White walls and the turquoise blue tinged floor made Caleb think the hospital was overdue for renovation and expansion. If they helped Deuce, then he would have Tri-Corp get right on it.

"Would you please sit down? Or at least take your pacing to the other side of the room?"

Caleb reluctantly took the seat next to Sam. He reached for the younger man's arm, turning it so he could see Sam's watch. "How long has it been?"

Sam pulled away. "Ten minutes longer than the last time you asked me."

"Shit." Caleb twisted the silver ring on his finger. "They could have at least come and told us something by now. It's been almost an hour."

"They're probably working to stabilize him. He was in shock."

"You don't think I know that?" Caleb snapped. Despite the morphine, the trip off the mountain had been hell with Dean drifting in and out of consciousness. "I just want to know what's going on."

"Can't you reach out and touch someone?" Sam motioned to his head.

"It's not that easy. Dean's thoughts are fucked up due to the drugs and fever. I don't want to push. And reading a stranger without a visual line of sight when there are this many people around is hard. It's like picking up the old party line Jim used to have at the farm. No telling who the hell you might connect with."

"It's not an exact science." Sam frowned. "I never really thought about how frustrating it must be."

"Keep your fingers crossed you never have to find out first hand, Runt." Caleb hoped Sam's latent abilities never came to light, especially if he was damn set on having a normal life. The kid didn't get a chance to respond as a white-coated older man came striding down the hall, moving towards their row of bright orange chairs.

"Are you the Winchester family?"

Caleb and Sam stood. "We are. I'm Dean's uncle. This is his brother, Sam."

"Dr. Frasier." The man shook Caleb's hand, nodding to Sam. "I've been assigned to be your brother's acting physician. You all are from Kentucky I see."

Caleb nodded. "We were taking a little vacation to do some hiking and climbing before the holidays. We were late in meeting up with Dean."

"Looks like he took an unexpected solo trip." Dr. Fraiser flipped through pages on the clipboard.

"He did," Caleb confirmed, feeling as though the doctor was proclaiming his culpability.

The doctor pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in the pocket of his lab coat. "It was lucky you boys found him when you did."

"How is he?" Sam asked.

"X-rays show a clean break of the fibula, which is good considering the velocity impact he withstood. The open fracture is not so good." The doctor shook his head.

"Infection?" Caleb asked. He was tempted to just plunder the man's thoughts, but he forced himself to be patient.

"I'm afraid so. Osteomyelitis is always a concern with compound fractures, but the length of time Dean went without treatment has notched up the risk factors." He used his hand to gesture moving up on an invisible scale to a different level.

Caleb tried to control his panic and immediate reflex to want his dad to deal with medical issues. Instead he tried to ask the right questions. "Will he need surgery?"

Caleb felt Sam's eyes on him, and easily picked up on the surge of panic.

"He's not going to lose his leg is he?" Sam asked because Caleb couldn't go there.

Frasier shook his head. "Let's not jump to worst case scenarios, gentlemen. Surgery is almost always required after an open break. Debridement is necessary, especially when the bone has been exposed for this length of time."

"Are you doing the job?" Caleb asked next, trying to size up the doctor's abilities.

"No. We have a good orthopedic surgeon on staff."

"My father's a neurosurgeon based out of New York." Caleb felt the need to have some kind of control over the situation, even if it was mostly illusory. "Could your guy do a phone consultation with him?" Mackland would have a hard time reaching New Mexico in time, but Caleb had called him as soon as they got Dean to the ER. He was standing by for news. They could at least have a second opinion before Deuce went under the knife. "I want to know my Dad agrees with your game plan."

The doctor nodded. "I don't think that would be a problem."

"Good." Caleb handed the man Mackland's card. "Tell him to use the cell phone number on the back."

"Can we see Dean?" Sam asked with his fist near his mouth in nervousness.

Frasier motioned for them to follow him. "I think that would be a good idea. You can have a few minutes before we start his prep and move him to the OR. He's in trauma room 102."

Frasier turned the business card over in his hand as they walked. "Mackland Ames?" He raised a brow. "_The_ Mackland Ames."

Caleb nodded. "Play your cards right, fix Dean up good as new, and you could be looking at a new wing, Doc." Or in typical fashion, Dad could ream him a new one.

The doctor pocketed the card, stopping in front of a set of swinging doors. "Here we are."

By the looks of Trauma Room 102 the small hospital could also use a healthy donation for a complete gutting to go along with the face lift. The room was not a room at all, but a curtained off square, amongst other squares, filled with monitoring equipment in a wide open space that reminded Caleb of a basement with all its white cinder blocks and sterile concrete floor.

"Mac will not be giving his Johns Hopkins stamp of approval," he said. Sam's jaw was clenched and it was obvious he wasn't going to participate in Caleb's attempt to redirect his thoughts. "And he thought New Haven was lacking in frill." Caleb mentioned Jim's local hospital.

"Celeste said it was a fine hospital," Sam said, quietly not giving in to the bait to talk about the farm.

They called the inn owner from Truchas to get directions to the nearest medical help and although neither he nor Sam liked the idea of taking Dean to a strange place in a strange town, there were no alternatives. Deuce was in bad shape. That point was driven home as Dr. Frasier pulled the curtain aside to allow them access.

Dean was hooked up to an IV and several monitors. Caleb concentrated on his friend's face, preferring not to look at his bruise covered torso or the damaged leg.

"I'll relay Dr. Ames's information to the surgeon and give you all some privacy." Dr. Frasier turned to leave.

"Thanks, Doc." Caleb watched him go before forcing himself to move to Dean's bed. Sam had already taken up residence on the other side.

They were both stunned when Dean's eyes opened and focused on his brother. "Hey, Deuce you're awake."

"No rest for the weary…" Dean moved his eyes from Sam and tried for a smile. "I think your magic serum wore off half way down the trail and nobody seems in too much of a hurry to give me more."

"The doctor says you're going to be fine," Sam explained. "You have a mild concussion. That's why they're holding off on the drugs."

Dean kept his focus on Caleb. "You still hearing and seeing him?"

Caleb laughed. "Yeah. Unfortunately, he's hard to block out."

"I wasn't completely sure." Dean returned his gaze to his brother. "Sammy…this isn't the homecoming I had planned."

"It's okay…" Sam started.

Caleb took a deep calming breath as Dean shook his head, his expression turning serious.

"No, it's not. I had it all worked out in my head…it will be different now…"

"Deuce, why don't you focus on getting out of here first?" Caleb said. He hoped to derail his friend's train of thought, which was still all over the place. However, one perfect image came through loud and clear. "They're going to be taking you down to surgery soon…"

"Don't let them take anything I need." Dean's green gaze focused on him again. "I mean it, Damien. You tell them I'm walking the fuck out of here."

"No one's going to take anything from you, Deuce." Caleb couldn't help but to glance at Sam, hoping he could somehow keep that promise all the way around. "Not on my watch."

Dean nodded, closing his eyes briefly, breathing through his nose. He clenched a handful of sheet. "And don't call Dad. Okay?"

Caleb placed a hand on his head, trying to lend some kind of comfort. Not for the first time in the last five hours he felt completely helpless. He managed a light laugh. "And risk him finding out I let you start a hunt by yourself. Are you crazy?"

"Not like he'd answer anyway," Sam muttered.

"I did call Mac, though," Caleb quickly interjected. "Thought we might hurt his feelings if he didn't get to be in on some of the action before they started carving you up. You know how territorial he gets. He'll probably call Jim, but I think Johnny's tied up with a gig."

Dean opened his eyes. Caleb was worried he'd heard Sam's earlier statement until Dean gave a pretty good version of his shit eating grin. "He could be gone for a few more weeks."

Caleb nodded, watching as mischief stirred within Dean's green eyes, temporarily overshadowing the pain. "Probably."

Dean turned to Sam. "We'll get drunk off our asses … do Thanksgiving at the farm. Jim would love that."

"Dean…"

Caleb let his hand slide over the younger man's hair, removing his touch with a sigh. Pastor Jim wasn't the only one who would love having Sam home. "Don't get too carried away, Mr. Indestructible. You'll be lucky to get out of here by Thanksgiving." Dean would need antibiotic therapy and then rehabilitation. "Let's leave the party plans open for now."

"Don't worry about anything but getting better," Sam said, and Caleb noticed he wasn't touching his brother.

Dean frowned. "Something you two not telling me?"

"No." Caleb leaned against the gurney. "Cut us some slack if we're a little freaked out from your MIA routine. You scared the hell out of us."

"I'll be fine, Dude." Dean looked from Caleb to his brother. "No way I'm going to miss Sammy filling me in on Stanford. It will be like the backstage scoop on MTV's Spring Break."

"Please." Caleb scoffed, glad to be in safer territory. "More like a recap of one of those boring documentaries on the History Channel. Sammy's probably spent the majority of his time in the library."

Sam shot him a dirty look. "At least I don't have my very own cubicle at the tutoring center."

Dean attempted a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. "He's…got your number, Damien."

"I'll have you know my tutor was extremely hot." He winked at Dean. "I ended up teaching her a few things about chemistry."

"Gentlemen." A tall nurse wearing faded green scrubs entered the curtained area, interrupting the forced banter. Two technicians followed. "I'm sorry but you'll have to leave now. We need to move Mr. Winchester upstairs."

Caleb felt a momentary surge of panic, not quite sure if it was his or a backwash from Dean and Sam. He reached out, grasping Deuce's forearm, careful of the IV. "We'll be here when you wake up, Kiddo. It's all good."

"Stop worrying, Damien." Dean returned the gesture with a weak squeeze to his arm and a nervous smile. "Remember what I said about the detachable parts."

Caleb let him go with a sharp nod. "You don't have any."

"Right."

Sam seemed reluctant to leave. Caleb didn't miss the way he was staring at his brother as if it might be the last time he would see him. Dean noticed the look, too. "Sammy, this is nothing. I've had a lot worse."

"Yeah." Sam licked his lips, carefully pulling the sheet up around Dean. "I know." He rested his hand on his brother's chest, finally making contact. "You'll be okay."

"Better than okay now that you're home."

Sam smiled, but stayed silent as they wheeled Dean away from them. Caleb caught his arm when he started for the door. "Where are you going?"

"To the Inn."

"Now?" Caleb released his grip on Sam.

Sam looked down where Caleb's hand had wrapped around his upper arm. "It's not even a ten minute drive. The surgery will probably take a couple of hours."

"Why go now?"

"To get some of our things, some of Dean's things." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "And honestly I could use some air."

Caleb recognized the weariness, the adrenaline hangover. He wouldn't mind some alone time either. "You're coming back?"

Sam seemed to understand the underlying question and exhaled heavily. "I'm not going anywhere until I know Dean's okay."

Sam's answer didn't exactly give cause for the warm fuzzies. "And after that?"

Sam glanced away.

"He's fucking thrilled you're here." Caleb knew he was bordering on begging. "Why not stay for Thanksgiving?"

Sam gestured towards the hall where Dean had disappeared. "He's not even sure where he is, man. He thought I was a fucking illusion."

"Which should tell you something."

"What? What do you think that should tell me? That I should feel guilty my brother's subconscious is playing cruel tricks on him? That I'm responsible for his mental anguish?"

Caleb raised his eyebrows at the lawyer speak Sam was picking up even though he was still an undergrad freshmen. "I think it would show you that when Dean was hurt, you're the person he was thinking about, the one he needed."

Sam lifted his hands and dropped them in resignation "You're never going to fucking get it."

"Get what?" Caleb understood Sam was reiterating his past conversation. "He's hurt, Sam. Excuse the hell out of me if I'm placing you in an awkward position by putting him first for a fucking change."

Sam looked away with a choked laugh and when he faced Caleb again his eyes were wet with emotion. "I can't do this anymore. I won't do it."

"You won't do what?" Caleb couldn't bridge the gap between the Sam that stood before him and the little boy that would do anything for Dean. "Be his brother? Because I remember the Sammy who begged me to risk life and limb by breaking him into a fucking hospital room just so he could see his brother to make sure Dean knew you were still there, still waiting on him. Where's that person now?"

"I will always, ALWAYS, be his brother." Sam's voice rose and he roughly brushed the traces of tears from his face. "It's the hunting part I can't do. It's Dad and his unholy obsession I can't live with."

"But that's who Dean is! He's a hunter through and through. He's John Winchester's son inside and out. If you can't accept that, then you deny the biggest part of him."

They faced off, both panting with barely restrained anger. Finally, Sam took a step back, holding his hands up. "I better go before…" He hesitated, retreating more ground. "So I can get back."

Caleb didn't stop him. Sam wasn't the only one afraid he would say something he couldn't take back. He started out of the room when another nurse caught up to him. "Your nephew asked I give you these for safekeeping." She handed him an envelope. "He was afraid they would be lost."

Caleb took the package, making his way back to the row of orange chairs. He slid into one of the seats, feeling the stress of the last few days collapsing in on him. He opened the envelope and let the contents 

fall into his hand. Dean's pendant, the one Sam had given him, his leather bracelets, and his silver ring. Caleb closed his fingers around his best friend's most valued items. He gave the exit door a longing glance, knowing all too well the one thing Dean prized most, was the one damn thing Caleb couldn't hold onto.

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

Alabama

November 2008

"Wait a minute, damn it. Just hold on." Sam tightened his grasp on Caleb as the other psychic turned to take off in the direction of Dean's screams. They were on a deserted street, green garbage cans lining the alley on both sides. The warehouses were numerous and in poor repair. "It could be a trap." Meg/Rose had mimicked voices before, making Dad believe she killed Caleb in Lincoln, instead of Caleb's cult contact Daniel.

"It's Deuce." Caleb pulled away. "I can feel him."

Sam could sense his brother's distress too, but had learned reacting and going off half-cocked rarely got them to a better place. "I know he's here, but that might be exactly what she's counting on."

"How many of your kind are here?" Bobby stepped toe to toe with Caleb, addressing the demon inside. He gripped his gun. "You sensed those first two. How about the rest?"

Caleb's gold eyes disappeared behind black shadows. "Some older ones have the power to shield themselves."

"Take a wild guess," the mechanic said.

"Four directly outside the building where she is holding the hunter. Another inside with her."

"Does she know we're here?" Sam asked.

"Shielding is a particular talent I share. Caleb did his homework."

"You can shield other people?" Sam asked, knowing Rose could pick up on Caleb's presence, and probably his too, considering what her father had revealed to Sam in the Cold Oak dream world.

"A mental umbrella of sorts. Gives me and mine a stealth one grows to appreciate."

Another scream echoed around them, this time a mangled cry of Sam's name. His entire body thrummed, adrenaline urging him to take off.

"Deuce."

Caleb shook beside him, an attack dog begging for release. Bobby cursed, running a hand over his beard. "Goddamn fucking monsters."

This time Dean called for Dad, then Caleb. Sam was close to losing his tenuous grip on rationality. That ominous edge he'd sensed earlier was looming closer. He could step back or move forward, taking a leap of faith in a direction that was unclear. Caleb took off in a dead run. Sam let him go then gave himself permission for release, consequences be damned. He ignored Bobby's order to stand down, focused on only one thing-saving Dean.

Sam held the Colt in front of him, finger on the trigger, but had no need to use it. He wasn't sure what exactly Caleb had called forth, but in its wake he was left to speculate the immense power. The first two demons they encountered never knew what hit them.

Telekinesis wasn't the word for it. It was as if the presence Caleb was possessing harnessed pure psychic energy, compressed it into an invisible ball and then launched it from the palm of his hand. It was hard for Sam to ignore the aftermath. Their bodies bucked, twisted and broke with all the finality of sky divers with malfunctioning parachutes.

He barely recognized Bobby's faint swears over the deafening duo of his roaring blood and pounding heart. It was like no hunt he'd been on, but it was familiar on a level he couldn't quite grasp. Something ancient and primal pulsed through his veins, pushing him. His link to Caleb was wide open and he sensed his friend and his brother on a different level. It was as natural as breathing. Sam wasn't sure if they had awakened some dormant Triad magic or tapped into something much more sinister. He prayed for the former even as he held The Colt at ready.

He was alongside Caleb when they encountered the next wave of demons. Sam fired one round, dropping the hulk of a man in the cheap, tawdry suit. Caleb snapped the neck of the other one with a wave of his hand. Sam pushed aside the idea they were killing innocent human hostages. At this point it was neutralize and retrieve.

The crescendo of Dean's torment preceded their crashing through the warehouse doors. Caleb drew up short, panting. "If she didn't know we were here before; she does now."

Sam scanned the inside of the building, noting the vast empty space and discarded crates. It appeared to have once been used as some sort of office space. A tiled ceiling and muted grey carpet had been put in with long rows of fluorescent lighting. Remnant cubicles now turned over or dismantled, littered the area as well as a few smashed computer monitors and bundles of wiring and cable. It was an odd choice of location for a business office. There were no recent traces of habitation.

"There." Caleb pointed to a door in the far corner. "Rose and Deuce."

Bobby came through the door, sawed-off shotgun at his side. "What the hell you two waiting on? Let's go get our boy."

"The bitch is mine."

Sam wasn't sure if it was Caleb or the demon staking claim to Rose's demise but he had no problem stepping aside. While they were destroying Rose in hopefully the most painful way possible, he would rescue Dean.

She was waiting on them, along with another demon, this one male and fit, as if he might have been plucked from Gold's Gym as an afterthought. The room looked like the abandoned lair of a mad scientist. There were more broken monitors, a smashed hard drive lay in ruins among turned over filing cabinets. Two desks sat in the center of the room where there were several lights reminiscent of the types in a surgery bay. They cast an unusually bright light on the long metal table with wheels. It was the kind one saw in morgues for autopsies. Sam cringed.

Rose was standing on the far side of the counter; her arms crossed, wearing a frown on her borrowed face. She was beautiful in the voluptuous, pin-up model way his brother usually went for. Sam couldn't help but think in her short skirt, lab coat and glasses Rose could have been preparing for a Playboy photo shoot, ready to feed into every man's doctor fantasy. She even had the lucky guy strapped down in front of her. Only this time the dream had turned nightmare, and Dean was front and center for the unfolding. Sam's heart sped up as the proximity spiked his connection to his brother. It sent a mixed wave of guilt and regret. He should have never let Dean out of his sight at that bar.

"Get the fuck away from him!" Caleb took a step forward.

"Not so fast, party crasher." Rose moved quickly. She grabbed a scalpel from the tray of surgical instruments beside her and held it to Dean's throat. "Stay where you are. I'd hate to slip and cut his head off."

It forced Sam to look at his brother, something he'd tried to avoid in order to keep his wits. The sensation of pain battering his minimal psychic walls was bad enough. Restraints held Dean's hands and feet, one long leather strap pinning his upper body to the table. He was squirming, bucking the confines. Sam quickly realized the reason for Dean's sudden silence. Duct tape covered his mouth, a blindfold over his eyes.

Caleb jerked his hand up and Rose's makeshift bodyguard flew into the far wall. A sick crunching sound echoed around them.

"Sam," Caleb said.

Without consciously acknowledging what was being asked of him, Sam lifted the Colt and put a bullet in the man's head. It felt good. The man's muscled body jerked and writhed as the demon possessing him was destroyed. Caleb let him drop in a bloodied heap after the process was finished.

"I'll say it again. Back. The. Fuck. Away."

Rose's smile faltered, and her confident grin wavered. "Telekinesis? That's a new trick."

Caleb took another step. "Oh, I have a whole new repertoire, Bitch."

She lowered the knife, tilting her head in confusion. "Where's the amulet?"

"Back away from the boy and we'll show you your fancy bobble, " Bobby said. He stood beside Sam, his eyes locked on Dean.

Rose ignored the mechanic. "Caleb? Where is Father's amulet?"

"I've taken good care of it." Caleb pulled the necklace from under his shirt, letting it rest in the open against his chest. "More than you can say for Dean."

Rose's eyes narrowed, studying Caleb more closely. "You didn't?"

Sam looked from Rose to Caleb, who was moving closer to the slab where Dean was writhing.

Caleb grinned. "Oh but he did."

"I can't feel him," Sam said.

"What?" Bobby hissed.

"Caleb…" Sam's mouth went dry, his heart pounding harder. "He's not in control. It's all demon." Panic seeped past his defenses with all the voraciousness of Dean's aching whimpers, which threatened to rob Sam of the little psychic control he had maintained.

"Well fuck!" Bobby spat. "Isn't this a swift kick in the sac?" He fixed Sam with a reproachful gaze. "This is exactly what I was afraid of, what I tried to fucking warn you boys about..."

Sam looked at him with disbelief and gestured to the scene playing out. "You're giving me an 'I told you so'? Now? Really?"

Bobby frowned. "Get Dean and get out. I'll deal with Caleb."

Sam didn't like the sound of that. His brother would never forgive him if they all didn't go home. He tightened his hold on the Colt as he noticed Caleb reaching out and placing a hand on Dean's head. "Caleb?" Sam hoped his friend had made a connection to override the demon.

"Get out of my head!" Rose yelled. She dropped the scalpel, the instrument clanging as it landed in the metal tray.

Sam jerked the gun up as Caleb shoved the table with enough force to send it rolling out of Rose's reach, removing Dean from between them. The slab slammed into the wall without much impact and Bobby quickly made his way to Dean. Sam followed, keeping the Colt leveled on Caleb and Rose.

The demon calmly addressed her again. "Caleb was only thinking of what my abilities might offer him, but I must say his own talent is quite interesting, especially when bolstered by my energy."

"You're killing her!" Rose had both hands pressed to her temples and blood dripped from her nose. "This meat puppet I'm in is the only one who knows how to help Dean."

Caleb's demonic presence didn't let up. "In the end no one can help Dean. You know that. He's a big part of the master plan."

"From the drug…" Rose ground out. "The drugs I gave him can be countered."

Bobby freed Dean from the blind fold and duct tape but instantly his screams filled the room around them. Like a back draft, Sam felt the sound consume his body, every nerve flaming. He placed his hand on his brother, hoping to connect so Dean would realize he was there.

Sam kept his hand on Dean, the Colt trained on Caleb and Rose while Bobby tried to remove the restraints. In that moment Sam caught a glimpse of gold in the black gaze, felt a flicker of light. "Did you hear her, Caleb? We need Catherine. She knows what Rose used on him…and how to fix it. Don't let him kill her."

Caleb brought a fist to his forehead, closing his eyes. Sam was willing his words to penetrate, and his concentration on Caleb and his brother allowed Rose to rally her reserves. In an instant, Caleb was flying across the room, held to the wall by an unseen force.

Sam swung the Colt to cover Rose. She smiled, wiping her hand under her nose, smearing blood across her face. "Shoot me and you might as well place a bullet in big brother's brain while you're at it, tough guy."

Caleb didn't stay pinned long, dropping to the floor with a loud grunt.

Rose hissed like a cornered cat, roiling back.

"Your blocks really are pathetic, for someone of our blood line."

Sam shifted his gaze to his friend, recognizing Caleb's words as the ones Rose had spoken about him in the cave in Wyoming, when she was torturing him for Dean's benefit. Sam switched the gun momentarily to cover Caleb, but oddly enough felt their connection strengthen. His friend was gaining more control. Dean's screams had turned to incoherent pleas. Caleb's voice filled his mind. _"Take care of your brother."_

Sam hesitated, swinging the gun to Rose once more; every instinct demanded he kill her once and for all while he had the chance. But not at the cost of dooming Dean to the misery he was suffering.

"Hell of a time to grow a set." She looked at him, reading his thoughts. "I dare you to do it, Sammy."

"Leave her to me," Caleb ordered. "She's not going anywhere."

Sam didn't lower the Colt, but moved closer to stand over his brother and be willing to protect him. Bobby had a hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him still.

"Not without the necklace."

"You really think we'd give you the amulet now?" Caleb answered.

"Why not?" Rose asked. "Because you've gotten so well at using it? You think it just might be your ticket to save Dean from his fiery paradise. You're naïve, Nephew." Rose crossed her arms over her chest. "As naïve as Noah Seaver, but worse because you have the power to be dangerous, to do real damage."

"Seaver brought your bastard of a father from Hell. What could I possibly do worse than that?"

"You'd be surprised. The demon hiding in _your_ meat suit is worse than anything in our family closet. The ones with a soul are always more dangerous. Anger, regret, and an unquenchable thirst for revenge twist them into monsters far worse than those of us born to the calling. Haven't you met Ruby?"

Sam shifted his eyes from Dean. He didn't like that Rose knew about their connection to Ruby. "That necklace can do things… you can unleash beings you can't even begin to comprehend. And the more you use it; the more it becomes a part of you. It learns your fears and your hopes, twists them for its own nefarious purposes, and before you know it, _you _belong to_ it_."

"I think I understand better than anyone what this amulet can call forth. It's the reason I'm here. The reason everyone I loved has died," Caleb said. "I'm not losing Dean, too."

"Which makes it even more dangerous for you to use." Rose laughed, and Sam continued to listen to her as he helped Bobby remove the last of Dean's confines. "Poor Baby. Let's not forget the torment it has caused Deuce. He begged for you and Sammy to help him, you know. It was quite touching and very, very sad."

Sam recognized the baiting, knew Rose had switched tactics and was hoping Caleb would lose control again. She was playing a dangerous game, considering the demon Caleb was possessing seemed to want Rose as dead as they did. He met Bobby's gaze, feeling their edge disappearing. "Help me." Together they lifted Dean from the table, carefully bringing him to the floor.

"I'm going to kill you," Caleb said.

"You'll do no such thing. Give me the amulet and I'll give you the counter to the drug I injected Dean with. It's a fascinating chemical equation really. I'm always amazed at what the human mind can come up with in the name of that thing you call defense."

Rose gestured to the strewn equipment scattered around them. "Catherine and her colleagues did years of research on the processes of the brain in this secret facility actually, before government funding ran short. The war and all…But before they were shut down, Catherine found a sweet little chemical that tricks the brain into believing a whole host of things. Sort of like that movie Saw meets Virtual Reality. Imagine a drug that forces the body to feel and react to a number of situations without actually being damaged. No harm done, no treaties broken if it's all in the prisoner's head. Right? I especially liked the one where the victim feels like they're on fire. I thought that appropriate considering where Dean will be going."

"You fucking tortured him for days and all for this amulet you think will bring Daddy back." Caleb's voice held all the disgust Sam was feeling. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, wishing his brother were 

lucid and could turn the tide in their favor with a quick word. "All you're going to get is a one way ticket back home where you can experience the real thing."

"Don't be that way. This can still end amicably. As I pointed out, no real damage has been done to The Guardian." Rose moved closer to Caleb. "Besides, he'll have much worse in Hell. You should be thanking me that I gave him a taste of what to expect." Sam watched as she stretched out her arms. It was the perfect time to take a shot, but his brother needed the antidote.

The force at which Caleb hit her startled Sam. He stood quickly, reluctantly leaving his brother's care in Bobby's hands. He was afraid the other psychic might do damage. "Caleb. We need her conscious."

"Recite the exorcism, Sam," Caleb ordered. "Send her slutty ass back to where she belongs."

"Hell can't hold me, Baby but I'll wait around to get my piece of Dean. Do you really want that?"

"Dean's not going to Hell."

"You and the Boy Wonder couldn't even keep me from getting my hands on him." She laughed, and Sam felt guilty at his inability to see that Dean needed protection. "You think you're going to stop Hell Hounds on a mission? They work for a lot bigger fish than me."

"Whatever it takes." Sam stated with a nod to Caleb as he began to recite the exorcism. Rose cried out, but so did Caleb. Sam was hesitant to continue.

Rose laughed. "That thing will not go quietly into the night. He'll take pieces of Caleb with him."

"Keep going!" Caleb said. _"No matter what I say from here on out, don't stop." _The last was added silently.

Sam continued to recant the scripture. Both Rose and Caleb went to their hands and knees, inches apart. Minutes into the exorcism, Caleb looked up, blood now smearing his face. "Sammy…don't."

The voice was Caleb's, but Sam had felt the instant their psychic connection disappeared behind the demon's shadow. "Please! You're killing me." Caleb writhed on the ground as the Latin continued to do its job.

"Sam?" Bobby's uncertain voice came from behind him. Dean's hoarse screams had started once more. Still, Sam continued to read, holding onto the instruction Caleb had placed in his thoughts. He had to trust in the other psychic, despite the fear twisting his gut.

Rose lunged at Caleb, her fingers wrapping in the chain hanging from the downed psychic's neck. She snapped the latch before he could stop her.

The reaction was instantaneous. As soon as the amulet left Caleb, so did the demon. The psychic's back arched, black smoke erupting from his mouth with a roar. The menacing plume hit the low ceiling before escaping into the minute cracks. Caleb slumped back, panting harshly.

"It's mine!" Rose was above him, the amulet clasped in her hand. Sam barely heard Caleb's words over the sound of his own voice beginning the last verse.

"You win." Caleb coughed, blood from his nose dripping onto his lips. "But don't you know, Auntie? You can't take it with you."

Fury then panic crossed Catherine Blake's face, and Sam knew Rose realized she had come so close only to have it all torn away. She had a choice to make. "You'll pay for this. All of you. It's not over by a long shot." Before Sam could finish his final sentence, Rose retreated, choosing to fight another day. Catherine collapsed near Caleb as the demon fled her body. Sam stopped speaking. Even Dean quieted.

Caleb struggled to push himself upright and Sam quickly moved to help him. "God. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." He gestured to Catherine. "Check her."

Sam rested his fingers on her throat, relieved at the strong pulse. "She's alive." The woman jerked beneath his touch, her eyes opened, widening in terror.

"Oh God…did that…is she…" She started to shake.

"It's okay," Sam tried. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Unless you can't fix this." Caleb made it to his knees, glaring at the traumatized doctor. "What the hell did you give him and how do we fix it?"

"I…" Catherine stammered, shrinking back. "I didn't want to. I…" She closed her eyes, tears streaking her face as she shook harder beneath Sam's touch. "God…the things she made me do to him…" Her thoughts broke off in inconsolable sobs, as she twisted herself into a fetal position.

Caleb exhaled heavily. "Fuck."

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let her process…"

"Process! She's been possessed by a fucking demon, made to torture another human being. You think her academic ass is going to swallow that?"

"I didn't know!" Catherine cried. "I didn't know what it would do…I swear.I never imagined…"

"Damn it." Caleb looked at Sam. "This is not turning out how we planned."

Sam glanced towards his brother, who despite being in obvious misery was still breathing. His eyes traveled to Catherine, who was a blubbering mess, but alive and holding the amulet in her hand. "Things could have been a whole hell of a lot worse." The tarnished chain with the rusted ancient pendant was still wrapped in her fingers. Sam reached out and took it, offering it back to Caleb. "We still have everything that's important."

They both watched as Sam's touch changed the amulet to its pristine state, the pendant sparkling between them. Caleb's quick intake of breath brought Sam's gaze from the necklace to his friend's disbelieving gold gaze.

There was the truth, winking at Sam in shame. There wasn't anything to say, this was the evidence he was tainted by the Yellow Eyed Demon.

"Sammy…"

"I don't want to talk about it." This wasn't the time, or the place, maybe after they saved Dean.

"Boys!" Bobby's sharp voice echoed around them. "I need help over here."

Caleb snatched the chain from Sam, his fearful gaze glancing towards the mechanic.

"I'm sorry..." Sam muttered.

Caleb shook his head, shoving the necklace in his pocket as they both rushed over to where Dean lay.

Only the sight of his brother's open eyes, filled with coherence and agony held him together, allowed him to compartmentalize what had just happened with the amulet recognizing his demon heritage. Thankfully, Bobby had not seen the exchange.

"Dean?" Sam crouched down, Bobby moving over to take a position at the top of Dean's head, while Caleb kneeled beside him.

"Deuce?" Sam noticed Caleb's hand shook as he rested it on the side of Dean's face.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but only managed a strangled cry. He rolled towards them as if seeking some kind of shelter from the torment. Sam and Caleb worked together to uncoil Dean, so he lay flat again.

Caleb cleared his throat. "We're here now, Kiddo. We're going to fix this."

Sam wanted to believe it was that simple. He prayed for some instantaneous aid to end Dean's suffering.

"His pulse is off the chart. We need to get him calmed down before he goes into shock," Bobby said, shrugging off his top shirt. "We'll lose him."

Sam mimicked Bobby and added his shirt over Dean to keep his brother warm, and try to delay shock from setting in.

"I didn't understand…" Catherine continued to wail. "I thought I was helping my country, then that thing…"

Dean gasped and jerked out of their grasp, curling again into a ball on his side. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and one hand clutched a fistful of shirt at his shoulder, as if trying to pull the pain 

from his body. Through gritted teeth he breathed a plea, "God… make it stop." The contracting wave of pain seemed to wane and he dropped his head against Sam's knee.

Sam's whole body reacted to Dean's voice. He had never seen his brother in such a state, and it paralyzed him.

"We will," Caleb whispered and laid a hand across his friend's forehead before closing his eyes to focus on lending some kind of aid.

Dean's muscles seized again and he curled further into himself as pain forced out another strangled cry. "Please, just… anything, stop…"

Sam felt like a war photographer behind the camera, he watched from a detached distance. Getting closer would shatter the walls of the surreal cocoon that space kept intact; maybe if he stayed perfectly motionless then time around them would hold still as well and Dean's condition wouldn't worsen. Fury and helplessness twisted his stomach, and he tried to swallow away the lump in his throat and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder adding in his presence. He wanted to let his brother know he was there.

Again, Caleb's hand shook, but the tremor went up his arm. "Caleb? Can you help him?"

"I can't reach him…" The other psychic met Sam's gaze. "It's too deep. _He's_ too deep. I can't get in without hurting him more."

"Get a grip, Junior," Bobby ordered. "Let's regroup, move him the hell out of here, take the girl with us and. . ."

"Eli," Sam interrupted Bobby as he thought out loud. "We could have Eli help him, at least until we can get Catherine to talk." Eli could do his psychic trick of deadening pain. It would give them some time. Sam didn't know how far away they were now.

Caleb nodded, "Do it."

Sam watched Bobby move away to make the call, turning his back to them to distance himself from Dean's cries. He returned his gaze to Caleb, who was struggling to raise Dean off the floor.

"Body heat," the other psychic justified the intimate move. "My temperature has to be up from the possession."

Sam felt his mouth twitch, almost managing a smile. "Dean would appreciate the sacrifice."

"He'd kick my ass," Caleb said, wrapping one arm around Dean's chest, the other cradling the side of his face.

"He's really bad…" Sam choked, all levity fleeing him.

"But he'll pull through." Caleb dropped his chin to rest against Dean's head. "Isn't that right, Deuce?"

Sam bit his lip as he watched Dean's too-pale face, covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Dark lashes, wet and thick with saltwater moisture, twitched in response to the eyes' frantic movement behind closed lids, his brother's breathing fast and labored. Dean continued to shiver violently, despite the extra warmth Caleb was offering. He let loose with another string of pleas for their help and Sam felt his own eyes begin to sting.

Caleb closed his, falling into a gentle rocking motion where he continued to whisper reassurances that Sam hoped his brother could understand.

Behind them, the sound of Catherine being sick had Sam blinking away the hot moisture, anger and irritation shoving to the forefront, fueling his emotional rollercoaster ride.

Bobby shut his phone, rejoining them. Sam hadn't even realized the conversation was occurring as he focused on his brother. The older hunter gave him a tight smile. "They're less than an hour out."

"Good." Caleb looked up. He jutted his chin towards Catherine. "See if you can calm her the fuck down before I strangle her."

Sam noticed the threat was said softly and spoken in the same calming tone he'd used with Dean just half a minute before. It rang with all the more finality for it.

Sam crossed his legs, preparing to stay in the position for a while. He added to Caleb's dialogue when the other psychic's voice grew hoarse. This was their last ditch effort to keep Dean with them to somehow hold the unseen enemy at bay. He watched as Caleb slid his hand through Dean's hair, confessing yet another torrid story about some model he'd met in Florence.

Sam didn't know why he struggled with providing tactile comfort. He liked to blame it on his father, on the John Winchester way of repressing every feeling but anger. But that didn't explain Dean and Caleb, both as much or even more indoctrinated by Dad. Maybe it had begun at Stanford, when he'd blocked off so much of himself to allow the distance he needed from his family. Jess's death only solidified his boundaries…then Madison. Every time Sam let his guard down, he was hurt, or even worse someone he loved was taken away.

"Sam?"

Sam blinked, realizing Caleb had said his name more than once. He was also holding his brother's hand too tight, and relaxed his grip. He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Sam looked down at his brother now lying between them. Over the last few days he'd wished for nothing more than Dean to be with them, to be the buffer, but never anything like this. "No." He felt to blame, he felt exhaustion and concern mingling together, and overpowering fear. Sam didn't speak further because he sensed Elijah.

"They're here." Caleb said, announcing the brothers.

Ethan and Elijah burst in with Ethan holding his gun at the ready. "What the hell happened out there?"

Sam shook his head. "We'll explain later." He shifted his gaze from one brother to the other.

"Ruby had a revelation half way to Chicago and ditched us." Ethan tapped his head. "She said you two were having better luck and that you might need back up."

"Then Bobby called. . ." Elijah continued.

At the mention of his name the older hunter came over escorting Catherine with an arm around her waist.

Ethan jerked his head towards the pale doctor. "That the missing mad scientist?"

Bobby nodded. "She's ready to cooperate. She needs a couple of things"

Ethan extended a hand to her. "Dr. Blake, my name is Ethan Matthews and I'm a detective with the Houston PD. Just let us know what you need and we'll help you help our friend."

She took a shaky breath, running her hands down her coat. "There's a small lab in a storage area below us. I could use a hand."

"Bobby and I will go with her." Ethan announced as he and Bobby flanked Catherine and went to the downstairs lab.

"How's he doing?" Eli crouched down near Dean.

"Not good," Sam said.

"I called Carolyn. Asked her to send a cleanup crew."

Sam looked at him. "Shit. All the dead bodies." He hadn't even thought that far ahead.

"I didn't mean to overstep…"

"No." Sam ran a hand over his mouth, wondering at how Mackland kept up with it all. "I'm glad you did it. Some Scholar I'm going to be."

Eli squeezed his shoulder. "I think you had other things on your mind. Scholars have to know how to prioritize." Eli studied Dean. "Bobby said she gave him some kind of chemical that messes with the brain…makes the body believe it's experiencing a horrific trauma." Elijah tilted his head. "It sounded like science fiction."

"Try watching him go through it," Caleb growled. "Trust me. It's real."

"Caleb…" Sam started. Eli waved him off.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go to my 'professor' place."

"Just make him stop hurting." Caleb's voice broke and Sam knew the other psychic had reached his edge. "Please."

"I'll do what I can, but I need his cooperation. A Guardian's mind is …different."

Caleb nodded. "I can take down his blocks."

Sam brought his thumb to his mouth, chewing on the cuticle. "Are you sure? I thought you said it would hurt him." He noticed that Caleb's grip on Dean tightened.

"It will." Caleb seemed to find a second wind, his face settling with grim determination as he faced Elijah. "That's where you come in, Runt."

"Me?" Sam gulped. He didn't want to make things worse.

"Just hold onto him. He'll know he's safe."

Sam reluctantly moved so Caleb could shift his brother, resting Dean against Sam. He would do anything to make this easier on his brother since there had been many times growing up he had been the bratty younger brother making Dean's life difficult.

"You ready?" Eli asked.

Caleb nodded. "Whenever you are."

Sam watched as the professor closed his eyes, brow wrinkling in concentration. "I'll work as quickly as possible."

Caleb brought his hand from Dean's chest to rest gently against his face. For once Sam was not envious of the other psychic's power or control, his ability to master their shared gift. "I'm sorry, Kiddo. This is for your own good."

He a glanced to Sam, uncertainty splayed on his face. "He'll understand." Sam said softly, clinging tightly to his brother. Caleb closed his eyes.

Dean cried out, jerking in Sam's arms, bucking against the mental assault. Sam, held tighter, "Shh, shh, it's okay, Dean. It's almost over. I'm here. I've got you."

It was over quickly and soon Dean's thrashing stopped as he stilled completely in his brother's embrace.

In under an hour Catherine Blake was kneeling by Dean with three syringes and a fearful look on her pretty face. Sam was sure having Caleb and he hovering over her was only increasing her nervousness. He found it hard to empathize.

"We watched every step she did, Reaves. She's trying to help," Ethan assured.

Caleb stared at the doctor. "Just so you know, we have no issue with hunting you down and killing you." Sam had to give Catherine credit when she merely accepted the threat with a tremulous smile.

"After what I've seen from you people I have no problem believing that." She reached out and ran her fingers through Dean's sweat-soaked hair. "After what I did to him…" She took Dean's arm and straightened it. "I'm not so certain I don't deserve it."

Sam winced when he caught sight of the numerous injection marks. "How long will this take?"

Catherine gave Dean the first injection, massaging his arm as if to circulate the medicine faster. "This will only stop any future episodes. It's a reset of sorts." She injected the other shot in the same arm before reaching for Dean's other hand which Caleb held. "I can't take out what's already in his system."

"What exactly does that mean?" Bobby asked.

"It means he will have to wait it out." She cleared her throat. "I gave…I mean she gave him the last injection only minutes before you arrived. It should wear off before morning. Physically, he'll be tired, exhausted even…but I swear there should be no lasting damage."

"That you can see." The harshness in Sam's voice surprised him. He had the urge to shake the doctor. "What about everything else?"

"I'm so sorry," Catherine stammered. "I swear if I could…"

"Just finish it." Sam tracked Caleb's movement as he moved away from Dean. The other psychic wavered a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to move before anyone shows up." It was the future Knight speaking. "I don't want anyone else seeing him like this." The Guardian was never to be compromised.

Sam returned his gaze to Dean as the doctor emptied the last syringe and stood, looking anxious once again now that her task was complete. He reclaimed Dean's hand, allowing himself to hope that the ordeal was nearing its end. "We should go to the farm." That's what Dean would want.

"I can come in case he needs me," Elijah said. "I'm not sure how long my work will hold under the circumstances."

"I can escort Dr. Blake to the local PD, score one for Houston's finest and then meet up with you there," Ethan added.

Sam rested a hand on Dean's chest, looking to Caleb. The psychic gave a quick nod. "Let's take him home."

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Simmering apples and cinnamon tickled Dean's nose. A cool breeze brushed against his skin. The soft sound of Mozart mingled with wind chimes, filling the air. Dean knew before he opened his eyes that he was in Pastor Jim's kitchen. He was home.

Dean released the breath he had been holding, receding pain making him weak in the knees. He gripped the back of a chair with both hands, steadying himself.

Dean blinked, surprised at the spread before him. The table was set. Golden fried chicken piled on Miss Emma's cornflower blue china platter, mashed potatoes and gravy, meatloaf, and corn on the cob- all of Dean's favorites. Right down to the apple pie, rolls and cornbread muffins. A sweating pitcher of sweet tea topped off the feast.

Plates were laid out at each chair, ice settling in glasses expecting drinks to be poured. The butter was melting on its dish and steam rose from a bowl of dumplings. It was as if everyone had vanished before touching the meal…or maybe the meal was waiting for them to arrive.

Dean slid a shaky hand over his mouth. His time with Jim at the pond now seemed like a long remembered dream, the moments afterward jagged fragments of awareness. What was happening to him?

Thoughts of Sam pierced his mind, like streaks of sunshine through the slats of the barn at high noon. His brother had been with him, somehow…somewhere, Caleb too. That much he remembered. He could still hear the echo of their voices; feel the ghost of their touches. They were frightened. He had been frightened. Dean's heart rate sped up. There was pain. He remembered screaming, but wasn't sure if it was all his or maybe Sammy or Caleb.

"Shit…Am I'm dead?"

"Not quite, but I was worried there for a moment."

Dean turned at the sound of the voice. Gideon Lane was leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen door, arms folded. He wore a light blue t-shirt and faded jeans and when he dropped his hands to join Dean by the table, Dean couldn't stop his eyes from going to the man's chest. The bloody mess he remembered from Wyoming was gone.

"I'm pretty sure _you're _dead."

Gideon laughed. "You got me there." He slid one of the chairs out, taking a seat. "But like Jim used to say, 'Death is not a noun, nor is it permanent. It's merely a different phase of existing.'"

Dean dropped his head to study the wood floor. "More profound speak from Jim's Weird World."

"I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one who didn't always get the man."

Dean lifted his gaze at the sound of liquid being poured. Gideon filled one of the glasses with tea, set it in front of the chair Dean was standing behind, then served himself one. "You hungry? Because I'm starved."

Dean looked around the room, his mouth watering at the prospect of something to drink. "Where is everybody?" It was the setting for Dean's perfect day, minus the people. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Boy Scout, but when I'm at the farm…"

"You expect to see your family," Gideon supplied.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I guess I do."

Gideon picked up the plate of chicken, putting a breast in Dean's plate before dropping both drumsticks onto his. "Jim thought I should come. He seemed to think I could give you some much needed perspective."

Dean sat down. "Perspective?"

The sound of click clacks on the wooden stairs in the parlor interrupted Gideon's answer. There was a ruckus in the living room - a couple of thuds and a yip. Dean pushed his chair back just as Atticus Finch and Scout came tearing around the corner, racing to see who would be first for the coveted spot under the dinner table.

Dean felt his eyes sting, emotion settling in his throat. "You two always could hear chicken hit the plate from a mile away."

Atticus made it to him first, beating out Scout by a body length, a feat that never happened in his old life. The Golden Retriever was nearly seventy in human years before Scout came along, and his hips never quite allowed him to outdo the rowdy Labrador Retriever. He had to rely on favoritism and sympathy to get the good pieces that were dropped below Sammy's chair.

Dean knelt, leaning forward. He buried his face in the ruff of fur at Atticus's neck as the dog reared on his haunches, front paws on Dean's shoulders. "Good to see you, Boy." Atticus smiled.

A quick cold nudge at his elbow had him moving back so Scout could nuzzle her way beneath his arm; tongue already out in preparation for her usual greeting. He took his eyes from the dogs long enough to look at Gideon. "If I'm not dead, how the hell is all this possible, man? First Jim…now you and these two."

"It's a Guardian thing, Triad magic." Gideon grinned as Scout and Atticus wound their way under the table, threading their lithe bodies around the chairs with heads peeking out and mouths at the ready. He licked his fingers. "At least that's the only answer I've gotten from Jim and Julian."

Dean reclaimed his chair. "Your grandfather?" He looked around the room. "He's here, too?"

"Not here, here." Gideon smiled at his confusion. "But _here_ just the same."

"Are all dead people cryptic, or just twisted in my freaky head?"

"A little of both."

"Great." Dean sighed, gesturing to the other empty spots. "So, should I be expecting more company or is it just the four of us for dinner."

Gideon shrugged enigmatically. "You never know who might show up."

"Under the circumstances, I guess I should be thankful Sammy and Caleb aren't on the guest list."

"Yeah. I think so." Gideon picked up the bowl of potatoes, dumping a heaping scoop on his plate before offering them to Dean. "I can't wait to see Ethan and Eli, but I prefer it be in about fifty years or so."

"So we're just going to sit here and have dinner?" Dean frowned, wondering what the hell was happening in the conscious world this time. "I have a life to get back to."

"Obviously your mind thinks you don't need to be there at the moment."

"Yeah. Well…my gut says differently."

Gideon rolled his eyes, shoving the potatoes towards Dean. "I think listening to your 'gut' has gotten you into this mess."

Dean took the bowl, with an indignant scowl. "I'll have you know I have the instincts of seasoned war veteran. Twenty year tour of duty under my belt."

"Too bad those fine tuned hunting instincts aren't what you've been listening to." Gideon grabbed two biscuits.

"No?" Dean filled half his plate with potatoes. "Then what do you call it?"

Gideon met his gaze. "I think it's called your heart, Winchester. Yours tends to speak really, really loudly."

"You think you know so much about me?" Dean snorted, taking his own biscuit and then two more which he tossed to Atticus and Scout. "I'm an enigma."

Gideon motioned for Dean to pass him the corn. "I might have bought that before Wyoming, but I think I know you pretty well now."

Dean handed him the corn. "Did that bullet hole make you smarter?"

"Ouch." Gideon's hand went to his chest, the other taking the corn from Dean. "Being tortured by demons makes you grumpy."

"Pass the damn gravy," Dean grumbled. He took the gravy boat, watching as Gideon enthusiastically added corn and then dumplings to his meal. "Just how many dinners did you and the Wonder Twins have here?"

Gideon didn't hide his grin as he pulled the apple pie closer to him. "Not many. But we learned quickly to look forward to them."

"Good." Dean couldn't help but to take a little consolation in the fact their understudies hadn't spent as much time at the farm as they feared.

Gideon laughed, putting down the corn bread muffin he was holding. "What? Did you guys honestly think that your rooms became 'our' rooms on alternating weekends and summers? That maybe Jim had 

Ethan's basketball card collection, my model cars and Elijah's beakers stashed somewhere up in the attic, changing them out after you guys were gone?"

Dean poured gravy over his corn and potatoes. That's exactly what he had thought. "Don't be ridiculous. We're so not replaceable."

"Yeah." Gideon reached over Dean's plate for the peas. "We kind of hated you all for it."

Dean shot Gideon a surprised look. "You hated us?"

"Don't look so stunned." Gideon raised a brow. "Visiting here was like being a fifth cousin removed. Welcomed, but not really."

Dean frowned. "I can't believe Pastor Jim would treat you any different than…"

"Family?" Gideon interjected. "Don't get me wrong, Winchester. Pastor Jim was great. He was always good to us, but trust me when I say that there was never any blurring of the lines, no misunderstanding about who belonged at this farm." He gestured to Atticus and Scout who were both lying attentive at Dean's feet, Scout's head resting on his scuffed boot. "We knew who their 'boys' were. Jim's too."

"That must have sucked."

Gideon shrugged, tearing open a biscuit to slather in butter. "Not really. I mean...I had a normal family of my own. Mom and Dad are like the Cleavers, minus Mom's ties to the hunting world. Ethan and Eli had a pretty typical one parent household, at least until Jarrett died, and then Griffin stepped in. Like I said before, Jim made the right choices all the way around."

"This was the only home Sammy and I knew after my mom…" Dean waved a hand to the table. "The only kind of normal we were allowed. Any time we spent here was like…"

"Heaven?"

Dean exhaled. "Are you reading my mind?"

"Not a lot of secrets here." Gideon smiled, sliding the butter dish towards Dean. "But I'm glad to know your subconscious isn't completely ruled by your stomach."

"I'm not sure I can say the same for you. You spending the afterlife just hanging at the farm, mooching Jim's apple pie?" Dean picked up a knife taking a slab of butter.

"Like I said, this is a Guardian thing."

"But you're not a Guardian." Dean didn't mean to sound superior but Wyoming had cleared up any doubts.

"Thanks to you, I aced the final exam at the last minute," Gideon explained. "I didn't exactly get an A, but I at least passed."

"But you're dead." Dean finished with his biscuit, pointing the dripping knife at Gideon.

"Thanks for pointing that out yet again." Gideon leaned his elbows on the table. "I'm just getting a different kind of training now."

Dean returned his utensils to the side of his plate, sittin up in his chair. "So, this is a Star Wars thing…like when Luke can see all the past Jedi Knights?"

Gideon frowned for a moment before recognition lit his blue eyes. He grabbed his napkin unrolling it before dropping it in his lap. "Yeah. I guess it's kind of the same, although I'm not sure about that whole Force thing."

Dean picked up his tea taking a long drink. "I wouldn't let Damien hear you say that. He's a big believer."

Gideon placed his fork on one side, spoon on the other. "Ethan has seen all those movies at least a hundred times."

"Knight thing?" Dean said.

"Probably."

"Better than the geeky Scholars." Dean faked a shiver of repulsion and set his glass down. "The theory of quantum physics is definitely a downer."

"Definitely."

Dean fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable now that his plate was full and there was nothing left to do with his hands. "So…are there enough fast cars for you in the afterlife?"

"If that's your way of asking about the other side…I can promise you I'm fine. Like Jim, I made the best choice."

"To die?" Dean felt a twinge of anger flare, guilt threatening to ruin their amicable discussion. "That's always a stupid choice."

Gideon cocked his head to one side, giving Dean a 'you're kidding me' look. "One you chose for yourself quite willingly."

"In exchange for my _brother's_ life." Dean huffed. "I was nothing to you. As you said, if anything you resented me. Why the hell take a bullet for your trouble?"

Gideon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "You really are an asshole, Winchester. A hypocrite to boot."

"Excuse me?" Dean looked around. "Are you even supposed to say 'asshole' here?"

Gideon ignored the reprimand. "What happened to that speech about the individual over the many you were spouting in Wyoming?"

"I don't give speeches." Dean looked skyward. "Jim, so help me if this is your idea of a fun time…"

"You know what I'm talking about," Gideon continued, tapping his finger on the table. "The bit about the life of one person equaling the importance of the whole."

Dean glared at him. "No man is forfeit. Not on my team."

"Except for you."

"A good General is willing to die for his men."

"If the General is dead, who's going to guide the rest of the troops?"

"That's why you have a really good second in command."

"I was your second in command."

"And you went and got yourself killed. Whose fault is that?"

"I died so you could lead."

"But that's not fair."

Gideon threw his hands in the air. "I thought you already learned that particular lesson from Jim."

Dean placed his hands flat on the table, trying to reign in his temper. Lane was ruining his happy place. "You don't understand."

"You're right. In many ways I could never begin to understand you."

"I'm an enigma," Dean said.

"I was referring to the fact that I never lost anyone I was really close to in my life. Never. I never had a dog, not even a goldfish."

Atticus barked and Dean looked at Gideon. "He doesn't appreciate the comparison. Fish fall far short of the canine bar."

"Stop dodging." Gideon rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to explain to you that I was never touched by death. Not like you."

Dean cleared his throat, realizing the Boy Scout wasn't about to let the conversation go until he'd made his point. "What about Julian?"

"I was too young when Julian passed. I don't have any siblings. Until Jarrett died, I don't think I even comprehended grief, and even then it was limited and mostly second handed because I was at college when Ethan and Eli struggled through it."

Dean licked his lips. "What does any of that have to do with me? It sounds like you lived a blessed life. Good for you. All the more reason not to throw it down the drain."

"I didn't realize what losing one integral person could do to you, the emptiness it could leave." He licked his lips. "Maybe that's why I talked a good game about being willing to watch someone I love die if it was in the name of something greater."

Dean met his gaze. "There is nothing greater than love." The words rang true, and Dean took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "At least that's what Pastor Jim says."

Gideon held his gaze. "He's right. I realized that in Wyoming. Watching you and Sam when Caleb drowned…then the fear and dread I experienced when Ian threatened to shoot Ethan and Eli. It all clicked into place. There can be no real sacrifice if one doesn't understand what's to be lost. Dying isn't so terrible for the person gone, but for the disaster it leaves in its wake. So when I took that bullet for you, I understood fully what I'd be doing to everyone I loved, what I'd be taking from them and in turn what I would lose."

"That's great. It makes what you did even more insane." Dean pounded his clenched fists on the table, dishes and glasses clanking together. He glared at Gideon. "You knew the costs but you went ahead and did it anyway."

"Yes," Gideon confessed. "Just as you did when you gave your soul for Sam's life. You need to accept that."

Dean opened his mouth, closed it. Gideon had cornered him perfectly.

"We both made the ultimate sacrifice for Brotherhood, Dean."

"It is not the same thing, damn it!"

"I'm sorry." Gideon sat back in his chair. "Whether it's for a thousand men or one individual, it is the same."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you regret it?"

"Only that I left Ethan and Elijah. That I know they're suffering and nothing can change that. It will be the same for your brothers. "

"But they'll be okay…" Dean was thinking mainly of Sam and Caleb, but also of Ethan and Elijah. "Time heals all wounds and shit. They'll move on, and things will get better. Right?"

Gideon's gaze softened. "I'm thinking time makes you realize just how much you miss the person that's gone, and what an impact they made on you. Things may move on; but they'll always be different."

Dean leaned forward. "You suck, Lane. I liked spending _my_ time at the pond a whole hell of a lot better than this verbal chess game with you."

"You can't learn everything you need to floating around out their fishing, Winchester."

"You saying I can either suffer unimaginable agony or hang out with you?" Dean snorted. "The roasting over a spit is looking better and better."

"Suit yourself." He pulled Jim's favorite dessert dish closer to him. "More pie for me."

Dean huffed. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Probably planning on cleaning off a few shelves upstairs for your gay model cars, too."

"Thought about it," Gideon said. "But I plan on eating dinner first. Now that the other guests have arrived."

Atticus and Scout made it to their feet, whining as their whole bodies wagged in anticipation. "What guests? Who's coming?"

"I guess you'll have to stick around and found out."

"But I have to get back. Sammy and Caleb…"

"Are doing what they have to. You can't keep finding fault when other people make the same choices you do."

Dean looked at the six empty chairs, then to the opened kitchen door where Atticus and Scout were dancing and prancing. His brother and Damien were waiting, probably worried…maybe worse. But the pain was easy to remember, the relentless suffering that took hold like the unforgiving jaws of a hell hound.

"It's okay to want something just for yourself."

At Gideon's soft voice, Dean turned to face him. "You have no idea what I want."

"I think I have a pretty good idea." Gideon nodded towards the door. "That bullet hole did make me a little bit smarter."

Dean bit his lip. "But…"

Gideon leaned on the table, one brow raised. "Come on, Winchester. Haven't you always wanted to meet Miss Emma?"

Dean swallowed. "Jim's Emma?"

"The one and only."

"She's here?"

"They're all here."

Atticus and Scout barked. Dean's heart began to pound. A gentle summer breeze drifted in through the screen and the scent of gun oil and daisies filled the room.

"No way…"

Gideon lightly touched his arm, bringing his disbelieving gaze from the door once more. "Anything's possible. It's important you remember that."

Dean nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the possibility of an unearthly reunion. "Okay."

"And about that one regret…Ethan and Eli are good guys, the best. Take care of them for me. That's all I ask."

"You know I will."

Gideon's smile returned and he rubbed his hands together. "Now what about this pie? I think we should secure our share before the crowd shows up."

"Smart move." Dean felt his own grin spread as familiar footsteps sounded on the porch, a laugh he would never forget. "Dad can eat his weight in pie."

RCJ


	9. Chapter 9

The Edge of Winter

Beta: Tidia

A/N: See Ending. I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. ;-)

**RCJ**

"_Forgiveness will not change the past; but it will bring hope to the future."_

New Mexico

November 2002

It was either great restraint or great stupidity on Caleb's part that he didn't read Sam's mind to find out why he was so nervous and what was in the small grocery bag he dropped in the seat between him and Caleb. Later he would blame it on the many other distractions he tried to keep his mind focused on as they waited hours until the orthopedic surgeon fresh from surgery came to talk to them.

"How is he?" Sam asked.

The doctor gave a weary smile as he slid the surgery cap from his head, smoothing a hand over his scrubs. "As well as can be expected. I'm a little wary of his allergy to penicillin, but I'm sure we can find an antibiotic therapy that will speed his recovery. He's young, and in excellent shape. With the proper rest and rehabilitation I have every reason to believe he will make a complete recovery."

"That's great," Caleb said, releasing the breath he'd been holding.

Sam shook the surgeon's hand. "Thank you."

"He's in recovery now, but he should be in his room soon. If you check with the nurse she can tell you what floor. You're welcome to wait for him there." The doctor paused. "Tell your father I'll have my notes written up when he arrives. He also requested Dean's scans. I'll have those also."

"He'll appreciate that."

"Mac's coming?" Sam asked once they were alone.

"Yeah." Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "His flight arrives at noon."

"Speaking of flights…" Sam glanced at his watch. "The ticket you got me…"

Caleb frowned. "Is open. You can fly back whenever they have availability. It won't be a problem." Caleb slapped his arm. "I'm going to hit the nurse up for Deuce's information. Hopefully we can use Dad's pull to score a private room."

"You go on ahead; I need to make a quick call."

Caleb put his hands on his hips, an unnerving fear of letting Sam out of his sight taking hold. When he returned from the nurse's station, Sam was waiting for him in the orange chairs.

"You ready?" Caleb gestured for Sam to stand. "Deuce is on the third floor."

"Caleb?" Sam shirked back into the chair.

"The Doc said we can go to Dean's room." Caleb dropped his hand, nagging fear gaining more ground.

"I'm not going."

"What?" Caleb returned to Sam's side.

Sam rubbed his legs, avoiding Caleb's glare. "You were right. I can't change who he is anymore than Dad can change what happened to Mom all those years ago. His world is about hunting, and I no longer live in that world. There's no bridging the two."

"You're family. That can bridge any gap."

"Not this one. I have to have a clean break…I shouldn't have come."

Caleb hadn't seen this happening, at least not so quickly. He thought seeing Dean would change Sam's mind. "Sammy…"

"I'm sorry." Sam looked up.

Caleb shook his head in disappointment. Sam was taking the easier path, the one with the least resistance. Caleb wouldn't force him to stay, but would deal with the consequences. "Not as sorry as I am."

"Tell him…try to explain…" Sam took a deep breath, standing. "Just give him this." He thrust the paper bag at Caleb and was gone before Caleb could say anything more.

Caleb opened the package. Inside laid one of Celeste's dream catchers. He traced his finger around the soft leather. "So much for keeping away the bad stuff." With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation he made his way to Dean's room.

He didn't have to wait long before his friend was brought in. Despite the I.V. and monitors, Deuce looked better than before, some of his color having returned. Caleb watched him sleeping, hoping the younger hunter would have a few more hours of blessed ignorance. A part of him selfishly wanted Dean to wake up so he could be certain he was alright, but the coward in him cringed at the thought of having to answer the first question Dean would undoubtedly ask.

Caleb was so focused on rehearsing the explanations of where Sam was, and why he had to leave without saying goodbye that he almost missed the changes. Dean's breathing quickened. His hand closest to Caleb twitched, and a sudden sensation of pain and confusion pounded at Caleb's mind. He wrapped his fingers around the younger hunter's wrist and leaned closer.

"Deuce? Take it easy."

"Sammy?" Dean turned his head towards Caleb. The youngest Winchester's name exhaled on a breath.

"No, Kiddo. It's me." Caleb moved his hand from Dean's arm, resting it briefly on his hair. When the younger man finally managed to open his eyes and look at him there was disorientation clouding his green gaze. "You're in the hospital. Remember?"

Dean blinked, a frown wrinkling his brow. "Damien?"

"Yeah."

"I fell?" Dean licked his lips, closing his eyes again.

"Off the side of a mountain. Yes."

Dean took a breath, letting it out slowly. He looked at Caleb. "Remind me not to do that again."

The psychic chuckled, sitting back in his chair. "We'll have your cape adjusted so you can fly."

"I'm okay?" Dean opened his eyes wider, glancing down to his leg.

Caleb leaned forward again as the younger man's panic hit him. "You're good, Deuce. I promise. "You've still got a bit of a fever, but your nurse said you'd be feeling better once the antibiotics kick in." Caleb thought it best to stick to the easy stuff. "Your surgery went well. The leg will be good once Mac ships you off to the farm and Jim corrals you straight through Christmas."

Dean relaxed, his gaze searching the small room. "Where's Sammy?"

Caleb controlled his flinch, running a hand over his mouth. "Sammy…"

"Did I dream that…I mean him?" The frown was back. "At the cave…he was there?"

For an instant Caleb entertained the idea of playing along with Dean's confusion, hoping the foggy memory would continue to stay just that. Sam's visit could remain a figment of Dean's over active subconscious. Illusions didn't hurt like the real thing. "No, Sammy was here, Dude. He helped me get you out of Truchas, here to the hospital. I couldn't have done it without him." Caleb was beginning to think he should have done it without him.

Dean struggled to sit up. "Is he okay? Was he hurt?"

"Take it easy." Caleb stood, placing a hand on the younger man's chest. " Sam's fine. He wasn't hurt." When Dean stopped struggling, Caleb took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. "Sammy stayed until you were out of surgery, made sure you were okay. He wanted to wait until you woke up, but it was getting so late…"

Dean's frown deepened. "You said he would come back."

"Yeah, about that..."

"Sam came back…but now he's gone again?" Confusion still laced the words, but something in Dean's tone told Caleb that the scattered fragments were slowly aligning, pointing straight to the ugly truth.

He took a deep breath, preferring to watch his ring as he twisted it around his finger than to look at Dean. "He went back to Stanford. You know this is a really busy time at school, finals just around the corner. I remember what it was like. He risked that perfect 4.0 of his by coming with me. I'm sure…"

"He went back to California without saying goodbye?"

Caleb rubbed his neck, lifting his head to finally meet Dean's gaze. Sam trusted him to do this, or at least had forced him into it. "Yeah, man. He had to go."

Dean watched him for a moment and Caleb wasn't sure the news had completely sunk in through the anesthesia fog. He didn't want to explain again later. But then Dean carefully drew his arms up, crossing them over his chest. "He's not coming back…for Thanksgiving or for Christmas? Is he?"

Caleb didn't answer; instead he remembered the bag and quickly stood to get it. "I almost forgot. He asked me to give you this." He didn't wait for a response as he pulled the dream catcher from the package and held it out for Dean to inspect. "A Celeste Fair original. Sammy said you made him one once. He thought you'd get a kick out of it, and that it might just keep some of that shitty luck away."

Dean stared at the dream catcher, his eyes growing brighter. He made no effort to take the protection object, so Caleb hung it on the IV pole along with the saline drip. "I told him you being a Winchester he should have invested in one the size of a trampoline and with about a few hundred eagle feathers." Caleb propped his hands on his hips, forced a smile. "But you know Sam, eternal optimist."

"Yeah." Dean finally blinked, moisture clinging to his dark lashes. "I know Sam."

Caleb reclaimed his seat on the bed, facing his best friend. "Sam misses you like crazy, Deuce. He told me staying at Stanford without you is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. It's why he doesn't write or call…it makes it harder for him." Shit, now he was making excuses for the kid. This was all Caleb's fault; he should have never forced Sam to come with him.

"But he's okay?"

The question caught him off guard. "Dude, I just told you…"

"No." Dean shook his head. "You were there. You met his friends?"

"Yes. A few of them, but..."

"The girl…Jessica. She really likes him?"

Caleb sighed. "She totally has a thing for him. He's crazy about her, but is as clueless as ever."

Dean held his gaze, his voice taking on a breathy quality that caused Caleb's chest to tighten. "Is he happy there?"

Caleb hesitated, thinking back to the first night at Stanford to the moments before Sam and his friends had come into the dorm room, the positive energy he felt from the youngest Winchester and the dark anger that wasn't present.

"Damien?"

For an instant he wanted to lie to his best friend, but found he couldn't do it even to stop the pain his answer would bring. "Yeah, Kiddo. He's happy there."

Dean nodded, looking down at his fingers. Caleb watched him clench and unclench his right fist. "Where's my ring?"

"I've got it." Caleb reached in his pocket, removing the envelope with Dean's belongs. He offered the younger man his things.

Dean took his silver hunting ring, sliding it on, before grabbing the leather bracelets. He rested back against the mattress. "Thanks."

Caleb was staring at the amulet still resting in his palm. Dean hadn't taken it. He'd never seen the kid without it since Sam had given it to him, recalled all too well the time when he'd been forced by Duran Hughes to remove it. It was as much a part of Dean as the hunter's ring, as the Impala.

"You still think he's coming back?"

Caleb swallowed thickly at the soft spoken question. He suddenly longed for the days when he naively believed there wasn't anything he couldn't protect Dean from if he worked hard enough, was the ever vigilant Knight John trained him to be. He met Dean's gaze, reached out and gripped his hand. "I think he'll always, ALWAYS, be your little brother." He turned Dean's palm face up and placed the leather cord and amulet in it. "In fact, I know it."

Dean blinked, his gaze losing the hard edge. He curled his fingers around the pendant. "You say that as if you're always right."

Caleb grinned. "I usually am." He closed his hand around Dean's, giving it a brief tight squeeze before standing. "Now why don't you get some more rest before Mackland shows up and chews me out for inhibiting your recovery?"

"But what about the hum?" Dean asked. "We promised to help Celeste."

Caleb smiled at the kid's quickly shifting gears. Like he told Sam, Dean was a hunter through and through. "Let me worry about that."

"And the car," Dean groaned. "Shit! I left the Impala in that crazy town. Dad's going to kill me."

"I called your hot bartender. She's going to make sure nothing happens to Johnny's baby until I can swing by to pick it up. It'll cost me out the ass, but I suppose it's the least I can do seeing as how this whole screwed up situation is my fault." It was said in jest, but it didn't make it any less true.

"Your fault?" Dean's frown was back. "This isn't your fault, Damien."

Caleb ignored him. "I was late…I didn't have my priorities straight. But I can promise you, I've got my thumb out of my ass now, man. It won't happen again. The job comes first." Dean would come first.

"Did something happen while I was holed up in that cave?"

Caleb shook his head. "Nothing we can't talk about later when you're more awake." He could tell Dean was losing the battle with the anesthesia, and was more than a little thankful for the save. "Get some rest."

Dean yawned, blinking. "You going to be here when I wake up?"

Caleb gave a tight nod. "I'm not going anywhere." He'd learned his lesson the hard way. He was where he belonged with his head in the game.

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

New Haven, Kentucky

November 2008

Sam leaned boneless against the wall outside the doorway of his and Dean's bedroom, listening to Caleb's deep voice as he read.

Dean had been unconscious for the last ten hours, including the arduous drive from Alabama to Kentucky. They'd been sitting with him in shifts, neither willing to stay away for long. Elijah reinforced his mind trick a few times, and was now sleeping in Dad's old room in case he was needed. Ethan called; Catherine Blake was more than willing to go along with the detective's story of his brilliant rescue. He would be at the farm soon, as would Mackland, who Carolyn finally tracked down the day before in Haiti. Sam imagined The Scholar was pursuing a way for Dean to avoid Hell. Everything was slowly righting itself, their world returning to as normal as it got for them except for Dean waking up and telling them all to get a fucking grip.

"Don't fight shy of adventures; I'd sooner you lived dangerously."

Sam closed his eyes letting the lines from the story stir long-forgotten memories. He had talked himself hoarse by his brother's bedside, recanting all the good times the farm held, even telling him every Stanford story. Then Caleb retrieved his copy of The Three Musketeers and read to Dean from the book they all knew by heart. He'd already been through it once, started again.

"I've taught you to handle a sword: you've got good strong legs and a wrist of steel."

Alexander Dumas's words seemed to comfort Caleb, and lull the dogs to sleep even if they didn't have the miraculous effect of bringing Dean back to them.

"Fight at the lest provocation, in season and out, because now that dueling is illegal the man who fights shows himself to be doubly brave."

"Sounds like something Dad would say." Sam moved slowly across the room, watching Caleb's face for any signs he took his early return as an intrusion. The older hunter looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, two days growth of beard helping to darken his countenance. Harper Lee and Boo, were both lying on Dean's bed. Boo lifted his head up, going as far to sit up, offering his Golden Retriever smile in greeting.

"Yeah." Caleb rested the book on his lap, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Your old man was all about fighting the good fight."

Sam stopped to give Boo's ears a good scratching. He let his hand rest on his brother's foot for a moment relishing in the warmth that assured life before continuing past the bed to the oak bookshelf in the corner beneath the lone window. The first hint of dawn was seeping through the thin blue curtains, casting a purplish glow on the neat row of figurines adorning the scarred top. The tiny dragons, troll doll and dog statues brought a wave of nostalgia. Sam ran his finger over the large black dragon with the gold-tipped scales and thoughts of his father rushed over him. He grabbed the white-winged horse that stood gracefully at the onyx beast's side, cradling it in his hand.

"I thought you were going to try and get some sleep?"

Sam turned at Caleb's voice, shrugging. They both had gone almost three days without rest. One more day wouldn't matter. Sam claimed the chair by Caleb, stretching out his long legs. "I'd rather stay in here." Sam traced over the silver wings of the statuette.

Caleb pointed to the small horse. "I think that was the last addition you made to the castle. You didn't play with the dragons much after the Conner thing."

Sam hadn't thought about his time with his grandfather in years. Despite how long it had been, the memory was easy to recall. "I think I felt the castle was complete after Hope came to live with Prince Samuel."

Caleb raised a brow. "Hope?"

Sam smiled, recalling the day he'd given the toy to his brother upon his return to the farm. Their grandfather, Charles Conner, had let Sam take it with him when he returned the boy to his family. Things had seemed so simple then. The good guys always won in the end, like with Caleb's book. "It belonged to Mom. Dean named it."

Caleb's gaze returned to Dean. "I used to think you put them away because you didn't believe in them anymore after we let Conner take you."

Sam was surprised at their different perspective. "You didn't let Conner take me. He had Dad over a barrel. And most importantly, you all rescued Dean from that sociopath. It all worked out in the end. If anything, I was more enthralled than ever with the dragons." Sam leaned forward to set the horse on the bedside table. "Even when I hated the idea of Prince Samuel being forever sequestered in the castle O' Nathan Jay built, I still loved the dragons. I never completely lost hope."

"I wish I could say the same about your brother." Caleb kept his eyes on Dean. "I think Deuce stopped believing in the dragons after Conner took you."

"Dean has always believed in his family. Jim would say that kind of faith has a magic all of its own."

Caleb snorted. "You believe that even now? After all that's happened with Jessica, your dad, Jim and now this?"

Sam gestured to the dream catcher hanging on the headboard of Dean's bed. He knew Caleb had hung it there, recognized it instantly as the one he'd bought for his brother in New Mexico. "What is that expression Dean loves so much? Pot meet Kettle? I thought dream catchers only worked if your dream was to be gay?"

Caleb looked up at the dream catcher with a shrug. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything to protect him. If nothing else, maybe I can spare him a few nightmares." He licked his lips, shot Sam a brief look.

Sam looked down in worry about the nightmares they were causing. It was hard to forget the wake of death and destruction they had left. "About what we did last night. . .those people."

"Were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Caleb said. "Rose placed them directly in the line of fire, not us."

Sam wanted to believe they weren't guilty, that what they did was just. He carried more guilt because he knew Caleb wasn't completely in the best of shape to be making rational decisions. Rose's words haunted him. "What if what she said about the amulet is true? It's too dangerous. We don't need that kind of magic."

"You didn't object when it was helping us get Dean back."

"Because it was a last resort. We have Dean now."

"What about the deal? What if we can't find any other way to keep Dean out of Hell? You really willing to toss out the ace up our sleeve?"

Sam had the same fear, which only solidified his belief they destroy the amulet. "Do you hear what you're saying? It's just like Rose pointed out. We'll be completely desperate if we don't find a way out for him." Sam cut his eyes to his sleeping brother despite their raised voices. "It might make what we did last night look like a harmless bar room fight." He was terrified of what they could become.

"Demons lie, Sam!"

"Demons twist the truth to suit their own purposes! She may have her own agenda, but what she said made a whole hell of a lot of sense. We don't even know what that thing was that you conjured, but it was powerful. I felt the way it took control of you and how it handled Rose. That thing's on the loose now. We're responsible for whatever damage it does. Do you really want to take a chance on doing something worse?"

"I just want to save Deuce from dying." Caleb threw his hands in the air in frustration, the book falling from his lap, skittering across the floor. Boo whined. Harper Lee snorted in his sleep. Dean stayed motionless and unaware. "Goddamnit! Is that too much to ask for?"

"And Dad just wanted to avenge Mom. Dean just wanted to bring me back. Some things are too much to ask for." Sam swallowed the bile at the back of his throat, blinking to remove the hot moisture from his eyes before tears could form. "You can't fix everything for him."

Caleb looked away. "You don't have to tell me that. If losing you to Conner didn't teach me that when I was a kid, watching you walk out of that hospital in New Mexico sure as hell did."

Sam felt the tenuous grip on his own temper slipping. "You're really bringing that up again? God, I'm so sick of having you throw that in my face!"

"I only brought it up to make a point, to…"

"To make me feel guilty about what happened in New Mexico?" Sam interrupted. "I was scared, Caleb. Scared of losing Dean to the hunt, and of losing myself and my plans to the 'voice of God'. I heard that stupid hum, and I ran from it too because it made me different. I just found a little freedom; I couldn't give it up again."

"You never said. . ."

Sam waved his hand to dismiss the concern. At the time he had wondered if he was being called to do something that he was not willing to do. So he pushed it down and away, and hadn't thought about it until Caleb kept bringing it up.

Caleb gave a nod. "What happened in New Mexico was my fault. I don't blame you."

"Do you know how arrogant that sounds? How in the hell could you possibly hold yourself responsible for Dean being hurt back then?" Caleb opened his mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand to cut off his response. "And if you dare say it's your job to keep him safe, so help me God, I will bust you in the mouth." He was sick of illogical duty and obligations.

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "You don't understand."

"Why? Because I wasn't given some impossible lifelong directive by the late, great Corporal Winchester?"

"If he had issued you an order, you would have done the opposite just to spite him."

Sam ignored the jab. "No matter what Dad believed, you can't be in charge of another person's life. You can't be responsible for every decision they make."

"I'm not going to sit by and watch him get hurt."

"Then maybe you should just leave."

"What?" Caleb turned towards him. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "I'm speaking from experience. Because if you haven't figured it out by now, nothing you can do will ever change Dean's innate ability to throw himself in the path of harm's way to save someone else, whether it be one of us or some stranger on the street." He matched Caleb's fierce gaze. "I thought it might change when I was out of the picture, or maybe once Dad was gone. But no. He's a true Guardian inside and out, a selfless bastard through and through. To not accept that, is to deny the greatest part of him. If you can't deal with that, then you should go for your own sake, and his."

If Caleb recognized the cannibalized and slightly amended speech he'd used on Sam in the hospital in New Mexico he didn't let on, instead he stood, gave Dean one last look and left the room.

"Shit," Sam groaned once he had gone. He ran both his hands through his hair before letting his head rest against his palms. Boo whined loudly, coming over to lick at his face. "Just when I thought it was impossible to make things worse, boy…"

He didn't have long to stew over his inability as of late to say anything the right way, as another voice demanded his attention.

"Sam, is everything alright?"

"Yeah. It's fine." Sam sat up as Elijah moved into the room, his face wary and concerned. "Did we wake you?"

Elijah smiled at the question. "These walls are like paper."

"Yeah," Sam gave the professor a sheepish look. "Dad always swore he was going to insulate them for Jim. Sorry."

Elijah took the seat Caleb had vacated and Boo abandoned Sam for the newcomer's attention. "I just wish it had the same effect on Dean." He gestured to the unconscious hunter. "We might as well have been whispering as far as he's concerned."

"Is he used to you and Caleb arguing?"

"We don't argue," Sam said.

Elijah gestured to the bruises on Sam's face. "I guess you don't fight either?"

Sam reached up to touch his cheek. The professor was more observant than he realized. "Not usually. This is just hard…you know."

Elijah nodded. "So, you two usually get along then?"

"Sure. I guess."

The professor rubbed a hand over Boo's head and down his rust-colored flank. "I guess you have a lot in common?"

Sam had to swallow another lump lodged in his throat before he could speak. "Not really. We have Dean."

Elijah looked at him. "What do you talk about when you're not discussing Dean?"

Sam opened his mouth to deliver an easy reply but stopped short when nothing instantly came to his mind. Of course there were things besides his brother that he and Caleb discussed. There had to be. "Hunting, I guess." That was something. "We talk about hunting," when they weren't yelling at each other about the past.

"I see."

Sam didn't like the knowing look that suddenly lit Eli's dark eyes. "It's not like Dad and Mackland had a whole lot of things in common either. And Dad wasn't even psychic. At least Caleb and I have the psychic thing. He tries to help me…at least he wants to. I don't' really want to be helped…I mean…"

Elijah rocked back in his chair. "Mackland said he and your father were close."

Sam appreciated the save. He was rambling like an idiot. Maybe Elijah understood how complicated it all was. "They were," Sam replied. He thought about all the times he'd spent with Mackland and Dad. "They were both pretty passionate about baseball, politics and blues. The blues was about the only thing they could agree on. Dad was a Sox fan and Mac grew up with the Yankees."

"I bet that made for an interesting season."

Sam smiled. "Jim had to play referee more than once."

Eli grinned. "So, they had their fights, too."

Sam nodded, getting the very clear feeling that Elijah was trying to make a point. "Just like me and Caleb." But it wasn't really, and Sam understood that all too well. There were other vague arguments in his head between Mac and Dad, usually involving him, Dean or Caleb, but they were unclear in hindsight. "But not exactly."

"What makes you say that?"

"I mean they didn't have all the baggage Caleb and I seem to have. They were friends-best friends."

"You and Caleb aren't close?"

"We're family," Sam said. "That counts for something."

"Of course. I didn't mean to insinuate otherwise."

"It's okay," Sam looked to his unconscious brother, wishing Dean would wake the hell up so everything else would seem inconsequential. "Apparently being family and being friends aren't always the same thing."

"I understand," Elijah said. "It was that way between me and Gideon."

Sam whipped his gaze back to the professor. "It was?"

"Definitely," Elijah said. He patted Boo once more and leaned back in his chair. "I mean we grew up together like you and Caleb. Gideon was always around, but he and Ethan were best friends. I think we sort of accepted that the other was going to be there, and took for granted that Ethan would suffice as our common denominator. It became more pronounced as we got older. He and Ethan had the same hobbies, interests. They were into horses, then cars, and eventually even their professions intersected. I didn't exactly mesh in their world."

Sam nodded. "Caleb and Dean are a lot alike. It's easy for them. They like poker, greasy fried food and loose women. Caleb's been around my entire life. He's like another older brother, but I don't think we know how to function or relate without it filtering through Dean."

"Dean might not always be around."

"Dean's fine. He's waking up." And they were saving him. There was no alternative.

"I don't doubt that," Elijah said. "I was referring to the fact that you three are set to be the next Triad. Dean's going to have more important things to deal with than playing referee between Knight and Scholar. You and Caleb will be called upon to work together as a team. Look at this last hunt. At least that's how Griffin explained it to me and Gideon, back before we understood the situation." Elijah was quick to explain. "Before we knew about what Dad did and what Griffin was a part of."

Sam could sense the sudden sadness. He still felt bad for the way Ethan and Elijah had discovered the truth about their father and Porter. "Right."

Elijah clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know it's hard to reconcile the Griffin we knew and the one you remember, but he was a good teacher. At least, I think he understood the mechanics of how a Triad should perform."

Sam had no doubt that Griffin knew The Brotherhood inside and out. "That makes sense."

"While Ethan was at the police academy Griffin took Gideon and I hang gliding."

"Hang gliding?"

"I know." Elijah rolled his eyes. "I thought it entirely unfair seeing as how Gideon wanted to jump out of planes for a living, and he had his pilot's license. I would have at least chosen a level playing field for his little experiment, but then again I was never Griffin's favorite."

"What happened?"

"We nearly died," Elijah replied. "I loved Gideon but the man could be a know it all, bossy, and he had this extremely irritating way of saying things that made his proclamations come across in a very antagonistic, smug, and baiting manner."

"He was a smart ass?"

"Very much so." Elijah smiled. "His manner only sparked my own obstinate tendencies."

"You're stubborn?"

"Quite. We had a hard time learning to work together."

"But you came out better for the experience?"

"We survived and the next time was easier."

Sam shifted in his chair. "Did you ever take a swing at him?"

"Are you kidding? The man spent five days a week at the gym. I preferred verbal volley to full contact." He raised a brow. "But if I thought I could have taken him, I would have busted him in the mouth on many occasions."

As weird as it was, Sam took comfort in the thought. "Caleb and I have knocked each other around on both fronts these days."

"Sometimes words are worse. Bruises heal. Those blows to our ego are more resistant to care."

"Does it get easier?"

"It did for us. We learned to depend on one another and even came to enjoy each other's company. The hang gliding merely gave us a starting point, helped us realize that our relationship required a bit more work than his or Ethan's or mine and Ethan's. Believe it or not, we became quite addicted to the idiotic sport and began repeating it on a monthly basis. He was a good friend." Eli looked down to study the scarred wooden floor. "I haven't been able to bring myself to go since his death."

"I can't imagine loosing Dean or Caleb." It was one of the things that terrified Sam about being The Scholar. Their tendency to enjoy a longevity their counterparts did not worried him.

Elijah raised his head to meet Sam's gaze. "Is Dean going to Hell?"

The question stole Sam's breath. He was sure the look on his face gave way the answer without him saying a word. "How…"

"Paper thin walls. Remember?"

"Shit." Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. "He doesn't want anyone to know. It's complicated."

"Gideon died to save him."

"Dean would never take that sacrifice lightly. He'd already made the deal for his soul before Wyoming, before he understood fully that he was The Guardian."

"Did he do it for you?"

"Yes," Sam said. "Sometimes Dean puts himself last on the grand scale of things."

"Is there a way out?"

"We hope so."

Elijah held his gaze for a long moment. "If you need us, Ethan and I will help."

"I can't make that decision. Not without speaking to Dean and Caleb." Sam sighed, looking once more to his unconscious brother. "Dean's not an option, but I guess I should go try and talk to Caleb."

"He's on the porch," Elijah said. "I heard him go out. Dean will be fine with me." Elijah bent to pick up the book Caleb dropped. "The Three Musketeers was always one of my favorites."

Sam stood, taking a deep breath. "I kind of feel like I'm jumping off a cliff."

"One word of advice." Elijah gave him a knowing smile. "Keep your wings up."

Caleb wasn't on the porch, but Sam found him at the pond sitting on one of the large rocks near the edge of the water. He turned at Sam's approach and the younger hunter realized he hadn't sensed his presence. "You okay?"

"Is Dean alright?"

Sam frowned, stepping closer to the other psychic. "You can't tell?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Sam took a seat on a nearby rock, crossing his legs so that the lapping water wouldn't reach his boots. "Fighting off that demon took more energy that you thought."

Caleb looked at him. "You shouldn't have left him alone."

"I didn't. Eli's with him."

"Matthews isn't one of us."

Sam wasn't sure if Caleb meant a part of The Triad or a member of their surrogate family. "He knows about the deal."

Caleb raised his gaze heavenward and laughed. "Why the fuck doesn't that surprise me?"

"I guess we're not used to watching what we say, or _yell_, when we're at the farm." It was their one safe haven.

"Dean will be pissed." Caleb picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. "Nothing stays the same."

"Not all changes are bad," Sam offered.

Caleb tossed more stones into the pond. "That's not been my experience."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Yeah." Caleb threw another rock. "Like you being right for once."

Sam frowned. "I was right? About what exactly?"

Caleb finally looked at him. "The amulet…Deuce."

"I didn't want to be right about the amulet," Sam said. "I wanted it to be our ticket to saving him as much as you did. As for what I said about Dean back at the house…I only repeated what you told me in New Mexico. Nobody wishes it wasn't true more than me."

"I know who he is. Most of the time, I wouldn't change anything about him. But God, I hate watching him suffer," Caleb said softly. He looked out over the water. "I got a six month dose of it when you split for Stanford and last night at that warehouse…"

Sam automatically stiffened at the mention of Stanford, but tried to push his defensiveness aside. "Was it that bad when I was gone?"

Caleb looked at him. "Yes. Not the physical stuff, although he seemed to throw himself in harm's way a hell of a lot more often. But I was just as useless to protect him. Johnny was no help with his suck it up and carry on soldier routine. So I waited it out."

"When did it change?"

"When you came back."

"I never meant to hurt him and I can't go back and stop it from happening." Sam wouldn't change his time at Stanford if he could. He deserved a shot at a different life, but wished he had done things differently with Dean.

"I'm not asking you to."

"Then what do you want?" Sam asked, frustration edging his voice up once more. He wanted to make things right and they couldn't seem to get past what happened six years before. "Just tell me how to reach you, because after all this shit we've been through I still get the feeling I failed miserably in building that bridge, the one you promised that family could erect over any gap."

To his surprise Caleb's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Sam gestured between them. "This friendship thing. I can't make it work. I can't find whatever Jessup thought we should find."

"That 'try being friends' line he fed us." Caleb laughed then. "And the 'it takes two' crap?"

"Yes!" Sam snapped. "And it wasn't crap. Jessup was right. We aren't friends. Friends don't treat each other the way we've been doing. We can't even carry on a decent conversation with Dean out of the picture."

"Sam, Jessup doesn't know anything about us."

"He knew enough to know we're not like you and Dean."

"Because you're a different person than Dean. You can't change that and I don't want you to."

"Then tell me what you do want." Sam's anger was growing. He was trying to put forth an olive branch only to have it consistently banged over his head.

"You're serious about this?" Caleb asked, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. "Honestly, Sammy I don't know what to tell you."

"Start with the truth. I think if we're going to make this thing work that has to be the beginning point."

Caleb shoved up his sleeves, shaking his head. "Okay. For one, you're a goddamn selfish brat a lot of the times, and I suppose I had a hand in that over the years. But you were right about the New Mexico hunt - I did want you to come back home." Caleb angled his body to face him. "I wanted it for Dean, and for me, not because I thought it was the best thing for you. If I'd had it in my power, I would have gone and gotten your ass after the first week when you didn't return any of our calls."

Somehow having his accusations confirmed didn't make Sam feel one bit better especially when it sounded like Caleb was willing to sacrifice him for the sake of Dean's happiness. However, Sam knew the confession wasn't easy. Caleb hated the chick-flick scene almost as much as his brother.

"I hated that you left Dean and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to help him, but it was also about you. You deserved a shot." Caleb rubbed a hand over his mouth. "But it was about me, too. I didn't want things to change. I didn't want to lose our family. It's the only security I knew, and I hated like hell that your leaving screwed with it-scared the shit out of me."

After coming close to losing Dean over the last two years, and with the threat of the deal looming before them, Sam could understand Caleb's fear. He wished for things to remain the same. Change worked against them. "It's okay."

"No it's not." Caleb shook his head. "But it's the truth, and if you're hell bent on this 'friend' thing, I think you're right about honesty being a big part of it, seeing as how the typical beating the shit out of each other didn't seal the bond." He exhaled heavily. "It's harder between us, and I'm not sure why, but that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"It's because we're too much alike." Sam mumbled as he raked a hand through his hair. "I should tell you that I let you use the amulet even though I knew it was wrong because I wanted to get Dean back. I felt how off you were at Jessup's, understood all too clearly what you were risking. But I didn't make you stop. I had to help Dean."

"He's your brother. Your loyalty should be with him."

Something in the casual way Caleb accepted his admission pissed Sam off. "That's not an excuse."

"I didn't say it was. But it's true," Caleb said. "Deuce feels the same way about you. I accepted that a long time ago."

"So you're okay with being second to both of us?"

Caleb pulled his legs in, leaning his upper body against his knees. "Since when is it a competition?"

"Since when _hasn't_ it been a competition?" Sam growled. He was beginning to think that was at the heart of their issues, and until they got past it no amount of truth telling was going to bring them any closer.

He watched Caleb open and close his mouth, biting down on his first instinct to deny it. "Since you shot me."

Sam wrinkled his brow, frowning at the sudden shift. "What?" Whatever telling answer he'd been expecting, that wasn't it.

"You fucking shot me." Caleb's voice rose. "I was laying on the ground bleeding to death. Instead of letting you take the fall, Dean took the blame. He was more concerned about what Johnny might do to you, than what might happen to me. So, I threw in the towel, playing along admitting my own guilt in the accident, knowing that if I lived your old man was going to ride our asses the entire summer."

Sam felt his face redden. They had never talked about it and he'd pushed it to the far reaches of his memories along with the hum, where he kept those moments he never wanted to resurface again. He assumed Caleb had done the same. "I tried to tell Dad once, but Dean stopped me."

Caleb laughed. "Blood is thicker than anything."

Sam bit back on his first response. He wanted to point out that Caleb was family just as he had to Eli, no matter if the biology backed it up or not. But a look from the other psychic stopped him.

"It's not you, Sammy. It's Deuce. Like you said in there. He is who he is. That day you shot me, I had the exact same choice you had in that hospital in New Mexico. I had to either accept him for who he was, or walk away and let him go. Because I wasn't going to change the fact he was Captain Onehelluva Big Brother. You reminded me of that."

"But you stayed back then," Sam said, feeling the weight of their different paths.

"When I woke up at Bobby's I had every intention of getting the hell out of Dodge, making a clean break from the whole Winchester clan."

"What stopped you?" Sam asked, even if he could guess at the answer. One look at Caleb's face and he understood the truth. It was the same certainty that drove Dean to lie to his father that day so long ago, to completely forgive Sam for living three years at Stanford without him, and the undeniable fact that provoked Dean to trade his soul for Sam's life. Unconditional love was a bitch.

"He asked me to stay and I couldn't…hell, I wouldn't tell him no."

Sam held his gaze. "Now you know why I didn't go back in that hospital room that day in Taos."

Caleb took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think I always understood that, but in the end I had to watch him be hurt again. It was easier to be pissed at you than to blame it on him."

"For what it's worth, there are times when I'd much rather be his best friend than his brother."

Caleb offered him a weak grin. "Then I guess we're even."

"So we're good?"

"We're good, Runt." Caleb stood, offering Sam a hand up. "Now that this bitchfest is over, let's go

Is this too quick?

check on your brother."

"I wish he'd wake up."

Caleb hoisted Sam to his feet. "Something else we agree on. Jessup should see us now."

"We definitely need to be on the same page with his time dwindling and Rose still on the loose."

"You sure we should chuck the amulet?"

"We've already decided about that. I'll call Joshua first thing tomorrow to see exactly how we go about it."

"We'll have to kick up our effort for another way out." Caleb started towards the house. "What about that voice of God stuff? You really heard that hum back in Taos?"

"I did." Sam rubbed his eyes, remembering the seizing panic he'd felt when the noise first started. "You and Dean ever debunk the source?"

"No. By the time Deuce got out of the hospital. Celeste was set on leaving. I let it go in lieu of getting back to the farm."

"We could check in with Tucker," Sam offered. "You never know."

Caleb nodded. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He grinned. "You finishing my thoughts now? Next thing you know we'll be buying matching shirts."

"Please." Sam rolled his eyes. "I prefer a taste in wardrobe not be one of our common denominators."

"Snob." Caleb shoved him hard.

"Hey." Sam laughed. "How do you feel about hang gliding?"

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

The words were well known to Dean, the introduction of D'Artagnan and his valiant plans to leave for Paris. The voice was all wrong. Caleb read him The Three Musketeer as a boy, the first night they met and then countless other times when he was sick or hurt. With great effort, Dean turned his head towards the narrator, knowing before he opened his eyes he wouldn't find his best friend.

The reading stopped. Dean blinked hard, shrinking back as he sensed the unknown presence moving closer. "Dean?" When he managed opening his eyes, Elijah Matthews's face loomed above him. "Can you hear me?"

"Eli?" His voice was off, scratchy and barely audible. Even worse, the attempt to speak ignited a fire in his throat. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. "God…what…"

Elijah suddenly moved away, the book clunking to the floor as he made for the door. "Bobby! He's awake!"

Dean tried to sit up. Elijah's shouting startled him. His body betrayed him with its weakness, head pounding at the movement, the walls wildly spinning around him. He recognized his room at the farm though the pale paint blended into a big blue blur causing his stomach to flip flop. The last thing Dean remembered was going to a bar with his brother. There had been no plans to go to the farm.

A loud whine was followed by the sensation of a warm rag being dragged across his ear. Dean managed to lift an arm to fend off the big black and pink tongue assaulting him, Boo's hot kibble breath not helping with the nausea. "Boo…off."

"I don't think it's a good idea to move very quickly. Your body has been inactive for several days."

Dean wanted to tell Professor Matthews exactly what he could do with his astute observation and late suggestion, but his throat wasn't cooperating. At least he coaxed Boo from the bed, pulling a half-asleep Beagle from Dean's side, too.

"Where…" The single word was agony and Dean was pretty sure his last meal consisted of ground glass and rubbing alcohol although faint memories painted a very different picture- Jim's fried chicken and Miss Emma's apple pie.

Elijah seemed to grasp the sentiment of the shortened inquiry. "Sam and Caleb are just outside. Bobby's on his way."

Dean sank back to the mattress. Thank God. Bobby was there. His brother and Caleb would explain everything. They would make the spinning stop. Heavy footfalls had him trying to focus his gaze on the hallway beyond the door. It was Bobby who entered, disheveled and wearing only flannels and a matching shirt. Dean forced a half-smile. When he felt better he would harass the mechanic about the pajamas.

"About damn time you woke up, Hot Shot. A man can't buy a decent night's sleep around this place with you out of the picture." Bobby moved past the chairs claiming a spot on the side of Dean's bed. He rested a hand on his arm. "How you feeling, boy?"

"What…happened?" Dean ground out. His face must have shown his agony because Bobby pointed towards the bathroom.

"Grab him a glass of water, Eli."

The professor moved out of his line of sight and Dean focused completely on Bobby. "Sam…Caleb?" If he was as bad off as he felt, they would have been by his side…if they were able.

Bobby opened his mouth to reply, but Elijah interrupted him.

"Here. I wouldn't give him too much considering we don't know what, if anything, he was given for food or drink."

"Bobby…"

"Drink this first and then I'll explain."

Dean's burning esophagus won out over his fear and relented as Bobby helped him sit up, plumping a pillow behind him. He took the offered water with the mechanic's help, taking a few blessed drinks before the glass was pulled away. "Better?"

Dean nodded, bringing one hand to rest against his neck. "My throat…what happened?"

"I'd wager a guess your throat is extremely irritated due to overuse," Elijah said.

Dean frowned and looked to Bobby, who rolled his eyes. "Screaming, Son. Lots and lots of screaming."

"That…doesn't sound good." Dean searched his memory, trying to recall the impetus for all the yelling. He was pretty damn sure it hadn't been done in cheer, like the few times he had gone to Sox games. A feeling of dread started to sink in through the confusion, and Dean's body reacted with a hard shiver. Suddenly seeing his brother and best friend became much more urgent. "Bobby, where the hell are Caleb and Sammy?"

Bobby looked to Eli. Dean watched Elijah shift his weight from foot to foot, folding his arms over his chest. "They had some issues to discuss…outside."

Bobby grunted. "They're going at it again?"

"Going at it?" Dean tried to shift himself higher in the bed.

"This was more of an argument than a fight," Elijah told Bobby, before casting a quick glance to Dean. "Nothing to worry about. I'll go and get them."

Dean licked his lips, ignoring his protesting throat. "They're okay?"

"They're a couple of idgits is what they are." Bobby rubbed a hand over his beard. "Beating the shit out of one another when we've got enough goddamn people willing to take a piece of our hide without us lending them a helping hand."

"What?" Dean croaked.

Bobby set the water down on the bedside table with enough force that the remaining liquid splashed on the floor, Boo rushing to lick it up. "You should have seen the two Cro-Magnons when they showed up black and blue at my door, looking like death warmed over. I should have kicked their asses then. Your Daddy would have blown a gasket. It didn't take more than twenty four hours after you disappeared for the two of them to start tearing into each other."

"They're hurt?" Dean's pounding head was only allowing bits and pieces of Bobby's tirade to penetrate. Most of it didn't make sense.

"I hope they're feeling every damn bump and bruise."

"Damn it, Bobby," Dean hissed. "What the hell happened?"

Bobby studied Dean. "You were kidnapped."

Dean tried for a calming breath, but the sensation was akin to taking a deep inhale in an inferno. The pain fed his frustration. "Why is Eli here?"

"I called him and his brother in to help with your situation. Elijah did that no pain trick on you after the rescue. Sometimes that psychic shit comes in handy."

The dread was gaining ground, quickly spiraling to panic. His breath quickened as images of a woman's face and bright lights flashed off and on in his mind. There had been others, men holding him down, 

strapping him to a table, needles and then unbelievable pain. "That bitch…" Dean gulped in another quick breath. "Rose."

Bobby grabbed the trash can. Dean was thankful for the mechanic's quick reflexes when bile seared the back of his throat, his eyes stinging as his body attempted to get rid of the small amount of water Bobby had just given him. The process was over fairly quickly, but the dry heaving left Dean shaky and sweating.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as Bobby helped him lie back against the pillows. He lifted a hand in affirmation instead of using his head, not wanting a repeat of the consequences. The mechanic's palm was cool to his forehead and Dean concentrated on short shallow breaths.

"I didn't mean to upset you. Your brother and Caleb are okay. Don't worry. I'll be taking care of them after you're feeling better."

Dean opened his eyes, searching Bobby's face for any hints that he wasn't being on the level. "Why the hell were they fighting?"

"They lost it when you up and disappeared." He removed his hand from Dean's head and rubbed his eyes. "You had us all worried. People do crazy shit when they're scared of losing people they love. We can't hold it against them."

Dean started to feel better when Bobby forced a smile. "For all they claim to know about you, they seem to forget one very important fact."

"What's that?"

"Dean Winchester happens to have a heart the size of the Impala's block engine."

Dean frowned at the strange turn in conversation, worried that maybe he was in some bizarre world and this wasn't really Robert Singer, bad-ass demon slayer extraordinaire sitting at his side. "What?"

Bobby patted his leg as footsteps pounded on the stairs beyond the doorway. "Speak of the devils."

"Dean!"

Dean eased back on the pillows, as his brother entered. "Sammy."

"Thank God you're awake." Sam stood behind Bobby, Caleb claiming the chair Elijah had been using.

"Deuce, how you feeling?"

"Bad," Dean confessed. He cut his glance to Caleb. "Almost as bad as you look."

"And here I was about to say seeing you all lovely and refreshed after your fifteen hour nap was better than that first glimpse of Sport's Illustrated swimsuit issue."

"How long was I gone?"

"A couple of days."

"I don't remember much." Dean licked his lips, hoping to get some more water soon after his failed attempt. "Some flashes of Rose. She did something…" Dean straightened his arm as more images came to him, looking down at the bend in his elbow. There were trace marks of several injections. "The bitch drugged me."

"She wanted to know where Noah Seaver's amulet was," Sam explained, looking at Bobby who glanced away.

"Damn. I think I told her." He was trying to recall his exact words.

"She wanted to make a trade," Caleb interjected, but talking to Sam not to Dean.

"You didn't give it to her?" Dean hoped it wasn't in her clutches. There were enough deals, and one more would put the balance in favor of evil.

"No." Sam said. "We destroyed it."

"Good. We can't risk her bringing something worse than The Yellow-Eyed bastard."

"The doctor she body snatched says you'll be fine in a few days. There're no lasting side effects of the drug she used," Sam said, then added, "It made you think…"

"It was bad news," Caleb interrupted. "It's probably better you don't remember."

Dean met his friend's gaze. They were worried he had been caught up in Hell. He probably was, and was just as glad he couldn't remember. It was time, though, for him to turn the tables. "Just like it's better I don't know what you two have been up to."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, but pointedly directing the question to Bobby.

"Dean, glad you're awake. I'm going to leave you to it, and get some sleep." Bobby made his exit, then snapped his fingers for the dogs to follow.

Dean met his brother's innocent gaze. "What happened to your face, Sammy? Rose get a hold of you?"

"No. She didn't touch me."

"Bobby said you did that to each other."

They exchanged guilty looks. "What?"

"Caleb hit me first," Sam suddenly confessed.

"What?" Caleb glared at the younger hunter.

Dean cut his gaze to his best friend. "What the hell, Damien? Were you possessed?"

"No," Sam quickly answered. "Why would you even think that? He was just being his typical 'fly off the handle' self."

"You called me a demonic bastard," Caleb defended. He turned to Dean, pleading his case. "And did you see my eye? The little shit sucker punched me…"

"I did not. I hit you full on."

Dean was getting whiplash from the verbal sparring and was still confused. "Why the hell have you been fighting?"

"It was nothing," Sam said.

"Right," Caleb added. "We were just bonding."

"Bonding?" Dean rested his hand at the base of his throat, hoping the fire would die down to continue the conversation.

"Like Dad and Mac used to do. Remember when we were kids?"

Dean had learned long ago that it was a bad sign when Sam brought up the past. It meant he was hiding something, and wanted to shroud it in the warmth of the farm and the glow of the past good times. "Yeah, I remember, but neither one of you are baseball fans."

"Basketball. Celtics and Lakers." Caleb snapped back, pointing to himself when he mentioned the Celtics, and to Sam with his reference to the Lakers.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. He recalled Dad and Mac fighting about the way John was raising his sons, and the danger he put Caleb in. The Pastor used to referee. Dean wasn't about to go down that road. "I'm not Jim either."

"We're not asking you to be," Sam replied softly.

"Yeah, man, we'll start doing the friendly wager thing instead of swapping insults. No need for Guardian interference."

Dean looked from Caleb to his brother and back. "I can't leave you two alone without some kind of trouble."

Caleb grinned. "That's why you have to stick around. No more disappearing, Deuce."

Dean winced again, and Caleb stood. "You want me to get Eli back in here?"

Dean didn't want to give into his pain, and the need to want to drift off. He had the feeling he had been doing that a lot over the last few days. If Eli's mojo gave him some relief he wasn't going to be stubborn about it. "Yeah."

Caleb's hand went to his shoulder, giving a quick squeeze before he shared another glance with Sam and left them alone.

"You two really okay?"

"We will be." Sam nodded. "I thought we were going to lose you."

"That why you pulled out the big guns?" Dean motioned to the dream catcher from New Mexico, which he kept in the Impala.

"Caleb's idea." Sam chewed on his lips before continuing. "I'm sorry I let Rose take you. If I had known for one minute or sensed what she was in that bar…"

"Sammy…"

"I'm sorry for a lot of things. The fights with Dad, putting you in the middle, and Stanford…"

"Dude," Dean interrupted, not knowing why they were back in the past. It made him feel as though he should go back to sleep, and wake up to try again to see what greeted him. "Just how hard did Caleb hit you?"

Sam self-consciously brought his hand to his jaw, giving his brother a hesitant smile. "About what you'd expect."

Dean sighed. " How many times did I warn you when we were kids about poking Belac with a stick?"

Sam grinned, dimples flashing. "I guess I got used to Athewm shielding me in the nick of time."

"I won't always be around to protect you, Sammy."

"You're not going anywhere."

Dean cleared his throat. "We need to have to work on that bob and weave, little brother maybe put in some sparring time after our lessons on the Impala's engine." Dean rubbed his neck, the pain notching up from his talking.

"I'm still reveling in having you back with us. Don't start threatening me just yet." Sam reached for the water glass on the nightstand. Dean went for his brother's hand to stop him, not willing to ingest anything else regardless of the burning in this throat. They succeeded in knocking the glass over, Sam managing to catch it before it fell. He didn't stop the white horse, which bounced on the hard wood with a clatter.

"Hope," Sam said, replacing the glass before reaching for the small sculpture.

Dean focused on the toy as his brother carefully turned it over in his hands inspecting it for any damage. "The thing with wings," Dean muttered as a flutter of a memory tried to break free from the chrysalis of his mind - Pastor Jim's smile, the smell of apples and cinnamon, his mother's laugh. "Mom."

Sammy's touch anchored him back in the present. His little brother's eyes were wide with worry. "She's fine. Not a scratch on her."

Dean reached for the horse. Sam let his brother have the toy. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Dean looked from the winged horse to his brother. "I was just remembering something Jim used to say."

"What?"

Dean held his gaze. "With hope, anything's possible." Dean didn't continue as Eli entered the room with Caleb on his heels.

"Last time I did this you were out of it and Caleb helped so it was easy. . ."

Dean didn't know if he wanted to be referred to as easy. He cocked an eyebrow up in response, and watched Eli squirm. "Because you're The Guardian. It's a little different."

"I get it. Just tell me what I have to do." Each word was piercing his throat. He followed Eli's directions, and it was an odd feeling where one moment there was pain, and the next there wasn't. "Thanks," Dean started and continued before Eli could accept the apology. "Thanks for this, and you and your brother. You don't owe us after Gideon. . ."

"It is what he would want. For us to stick together," Eli replied. "To protect The Brotherhood."

Dean looked past the professor to Sam and Caleb. He recognized things had changed for the better. "Protecting your brothers should come first. It's all any Guardian can ask." It was worth any sacrifice Dean would be called upon to make.

RCJ-September 2008

A/N: Wow. Almost 300 pages later and this story is finally complete. I couldn't have done it without Tidia and her many suggestions. I so appreciate the feedback from the readers, and the patience as I know this wasn't an easy story to read and stick with. It wasn't an easy story to tell either. I hope there was a pay off in the end. One you'll understand more in the next two multi-chapter stories. Speaking of which, Marked Time from Tidia is complete and coming up very soon. Trust me ,you'll love it. Especially Dean fans. And we will have a surprise for you in the epilogue. Tidia tells me she should have the first chapter up before our yearly rendezvous for the season premier. Can you all believe season four is finally here!! The Beginning of the End will be after Marked Time. It is a one-shot from me, and you'll finally see the first meeting between John and Mac. Then the conclusion of our long arc with In Victus. And on other mediums, Sensue has an awesome new vid up for Noble Obligation. You can find it at The Triad or follow the link to her page from The Hunter's Tomb. Tara also has a new vid up called It's Raining Men. Sigh. If you need to tide yourself over until Thursday. Check them out!


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